Non Zero Possibility
by notmanos
Summary: Movierverse Logan Angel, The t.v. series crossover: In search of a person from his past, Logan crosses paths with Angel. And as much as the two don't get along, they team up to discover who is killing the mutants and demons of Los Angeles.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy;the character of Wolverine is also owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel copyright infringement intended.

N.B.: Takes place shortly after the "X Men" movie and during "Angel" season two. And I didn't know about the "Legacy Virus" storline in the comics, so forgive me that.  
This story is almost two years old as well. An archival piece, I've become a better writer since ( I promise).

For Tallulah

* * *

_**NON-ZERO POSSIBILITY**_

1

He watched from behind the two way mirrors as both agents were released into the cells, and waited to see if they would work this time. The demon in cell number one looked around curiously, smelling the change in the air, while there was no visible change in cell number two. The mutant in there had the ability to alter his skin like a chameleon, allowing him to blend into the wall and not be seen as long as he kept his eyes closed. He knew he was in there -the infrared scanners confirmed it- but he had completely disappeared against the foot thick grey cement walls, and had yet to emerge from his disguise.

If this batch worked, he'd have no choice but to show himself.

The door opened behind him but he didn't bother to turn around, as he knew it was his head of chemical research, Doctor Jennifer Ruthven. "Subject number twelve seems to be responding as predicted ," the young woman said, coming up beside him. He could see her reflection in the two way mirror. Her cool blue eyes, hidden behind wire framed glasses, scrutinized everything with a detachment he envied, and her angular face was highlighted by the tight French bun she had swept her dark brown hair into, making the line of her jaw look sharp enough to cut glass. She wore a conservative brown suit under her white lab coat, and clung to her clipboard like it was a good luck talisman. Perhaps it was.

"It's about time, "he grumbled, sounding more impatient than he actually was."The customers pay for extreme violence. If they wanted tame, they could rent a video."

The demon -supposedly a 'peaceful' kind, but an ugly son-of-a-bitch with red eyes and a spiky green face- had gone from sitting on her bunk, biding her time to pounding on the door with increasing violence, snarling and making animalistic noises as the wood surface began to splinter and break beneath her fist. He was unconcerned, as all the doors had steel-adamantium cores she couldn't break through, no matter how well the agent worked.

"I think I can mark this as a success," Ruthven said, pulling a pen from her coat pocket and making a mark on her clipboard.

He pulled a walkie talkie from his belt, and said, "Okay Byrne, release the sedative." He'd just replaced it in its leather holster when the demon in cell number one smelled the change and turned and snarled at the air, but soon fell to her knees, trying to pull herself back up on the bunk with her bloody hands. But the sedative worked too quickly, and she collapsed to the concrete, unconscious.

In cell number two, the mutant suddenly faded into existence, coughing and gagging as he stumbled away from the wall, then collapsed bonelessly to the ground, body spasming in a seizure before he finally fell still. He turned eagerly towards the monitors, searching for the flatline that would indicate final success...

"Damn it!" He snapped. "The fucking thing's still alive!"

"He is comatose," Ruthven pointed out. "He could die later on today or tomorrow."

"Could isn't good enough," he snarled, punching the wall beside the electroencephalogram monitor.

"Mutants respond differently to various agents, depending on the type and severity of their mutation-"

"Don't lecture me; I'm not one of your fucking students," he interrupted crossly. Sometimes this whole operation felt like a money pit, an endless exercise in throwing his money away. But he was closer to finding the final solution; he could taste it.

As if reading his thoughts, Ruthven commented, "This is as close as we've ever come."

"I know, but it's not good enough. Keep me apprised of his condition," he said, turning and leaving her in the small, dark observation room.

He didn't care if it took another year -he'd wipe all the mutants off the face of the Earth.

2

Logan pulled up to the curb and killed the motorcycle's engine as he looked up and down the dingy, deserted street, wondering if all of L.A. looked this sad, or if it was just this part. Although, considering what he had just seen driving down Sunset Boulevard, this was actually a minor improvement.

He dismounted the bike and glanced around suspiciously; it seemed almost too quiet, which was a hideous cliche, but it still applied. It was L.A. and night had just fallen -wasn't that when most big cities started to get interesting?

Oh, what the fuck did he care? He wasn't here to sight see -he just had to find this Metcalfe guy and get out of here. But he still wasn't sure if he should return to New York or not - was he ready yet? He was still lacking in the answer department, which is where he hoped Metcalfe could be of assistance. But he knew damn well he was being watched.

Not even bothering to be surreptitious, Logan did a full scan of the graffiti marred, grimy block, but whoever they were, they were hiding themselves very well. He sniffed the air, but it made him cough -goddamn smog. Every scent was hidden beneath a miasma of carbon dioxide and other pollutants, which was not great if you had a better than average sense of smell, but was cruel and unusual punishment for him. If he had known how bad it was, he would have brought noseplugs.

Fine -whoever it was could watch. Maybe they were interested in the bike, but that could take care of itself; his only regret was that the anti-theft devices weren't lethal.

He knew precious little more about himself than he had started with when he left for Canada. All he discovered was he wasn't the only one with a set of curious dog tags. He tracked down an emergency room doctor in Toronto who remembered him (_"I could never forget that hair,_"she'd said -ha ha) bringing in a guy almost two years ago, bloodied and beaten looking, with dog tags that said '_Wraith'_.

Of course, he had no memory of that.

But the hospital found a real name for the guy before both of them disappeared (she didn't know how that had happened) -Robert Armstrong Metcalfe.

He tracked the guy down to Vancouver, only to be told he and his family (!) had picked up and moved rather abruptly two months ago, clearing out in the middle of the night. But eventually he got a 'change of address' card that placed them in Los Angeles, and once he convinced the guy that he and Rob had been 'army buddies' (the best lie he could think of), the landlord gave him the address.

Maybe this guy wasn't the Robert Armstrong Metcalfe -a/k/a Wraith- he'd brought in half dead to an ER two years ago; maybe this was just some guy with the same name, around the same age, matching the same description. Or maybe he was going to try and pretend that was the case; or maybe he too was suffering from this strangely selective amnesia that afflicted him -he didn't was only one way to find out.

According to the address he was given, Metcalfe and his family (wife and a kid, according to the landlord -Jody and Timothy) lived over the small business they owned and operated. When he found the right building address, he pulled out the slip of paper the landlord had given him and double checked.

Wraith was a florist?

Well, okay... he didn't remember him, so anything was possible.

Metcalfe's Flowers was closed, but he thought he saw a light on in the back, even through the wrought iron security grating and pulled window shades. He pressed the service buzzer beside the door, wondering what he was going to say. _"Hi, do you know me?"_ was completely honest and all he really wanted to know, but it seemed strange.

It was then he glanced down at the threshold, and noticed a dark smear on the landing.

He crouched down and touched the stain gingerly, rubbing the tepid red fluid between his fingers before sniffing it for final confirmation: blood. Fresh blood -it wasn't completely cold.

The door wasn't even locked.

He shoved it open with his elbow ,tensing for anything, and yet even he hadn't expected what he saw.

Flower petals, torn leaves, and shattered glass littered the floor, which, in the half light from the back room, appeared to glisten like ice. Blood mingled with the water near the front counter, giving it a pink tinge, and he sniffed the air warily, hoping the dickheads who did this were still here. But all he could smell was blood and chemicals, flowers and gunpowder.

He walked around some sort of display table in the center of the room, now a mountain of debris, and found a woman laying on the floor just behind it, face down with her head turned to the side, her long black hair floating gently on the water like smoke, blue eye staring at nothing. Jody? Had to be.

He didn't need to search for a pulse; she had been dead for a few minutes at least, six holes half the size of his fist perforating her torso at nearly all critical points, proving whomever shot her had used major weaponry, and knew exactly what they were doing. This was an execution.

On the far right side of the darkened shop, he saw a larger body laying beside a shattered refrigeration case that had scattered roses and orchids upon it like a fallen hero.

He went over to confirm it was Wraith, but when he gently turned the body over onto its back, he saw it was a man who looked nothing like the picture of Wraith he had seen. Like his namesake, he was scrawny and pale, with a long, haunted face, and blue eyes so pale they were grey. This man was thick in the neck and the chest, a bodybuilder probably, and his wide,staring eyes were dark brown, the same color as his hair. Wraith had been blond, following the pale as a ghost theme, and seemed frail, where this man seemed like a complete chunkhead.

An assistant perhaps? But he hardly looked like someone who would work at a florist's. And then there was the fact he was wearing all black clothing, right down to black leather gloves. The assassin? Had Jody managed to kill him? Or had Wraith?

If so, where was Wraith now? And where was the killer's gun? Or were they the same question?

He turned and headed for the back room, being as quiet as possible, wincing every time the shards of glass crunched beneath his boots and the water sloshed when he took a step. He was reasonably sure he was alone -but not completely sure. And until he knew if he was dealing with friend or foe, he had no intention of announcing his presence here.

The door was ajar, so he lightly touched it with his fingertips, letting it swing open gently on a storage room, the illumination coming from a single naked white light bulb suspended from the low ceiling. Cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly in various piles, while a refrigeration unit that resembled a horizontal freezer sat parallel to the door, an obvious, livid smear of blood on the white enamel. The unit was too small to hold a body, unless it was chopped up, or very small.

Child sized?

As a wave of sickened rage coursed through him, he realized the smell in the air had changed; he smelled flop sweat and adrenaline over chemicals and blood,. He let his claws emerge, slicing through the flesh of his knuckles with a familiar pain as he whirled in time to intercept the black clad man who leapt over the boxes on his immediate left, headed straight for him.

With a single swipe of his right gleaming silver claw, he reduced his automatic weapon to several disparate pieces in mid-air, the segments clattering to the floor as he hooked commando boy by the waist of his pants and continued his trajectory, throwing him head first into the wall over the fire exit. He met it with a satisfying crunch and hit the floor like a stone, just in time for the door to slam open and his body to be smashed between it and the wall as a half dozen black clad commandos poured in the door, headed for him.

"I knew I was being watched,"he grumbled to himself, kicking one of them in the face as he slashed down with a claw, reducing another shotgun to scrap metal.

Suddenly something hit him in the arm, and he tasted electricity in his mouth as a sharp, paralyzing pain dropped him to his knees, an aurora borealis of lights exploding before his eyes as he felt the power coursing up and down his skeleton.

It was more like a cattle prod than a taser, even though it was a metal dart shot from some kind of device like a black handle, attached to the barb by a long wire, down which the megavolts shot like lightning. He couldn't move, he could barely breathe, and the pain was excruciating. But as they converged on him he knew he had to do something, or he'd end up as dead as Jody. And possibly Wraith.

With an effort of extreme will, Logan managed to slash through the wire with his claws, even though it briefly made sparks fly from the tips as the wire fell away, and one of the commandos kicked him hard in the face, sending him falling to the floor. Struggling for bodily control, he kicked out and knocked two of them down, his muscles ticcing and shuddering as he struggled to his feet, grabbing one of the commando's shotguns and smashing the butt of it into two of their faces.

He had no idea how many volts they just put through him, but it verged on lethal; a normal person would be dead by now, and even with his virtually instantaneous healing abilities, he could still barely function. These guys were equipped to fight mutants, but they smelled normal. "Who are you people?" He shouted, retracting his claws and falling back to the more standard punching and kicking -they needed to be alive to answer questions. "What the hell did you do with Wraith?"

But no one answered, and he heard the deadly crackling snap of that electrical weapon being fired, but he shoved his way through the mob of remaining men and heard the scream of another commando getting hit with the dart as he bulled his way out the door. He was outnumbered and severely outgunned - escape looked like a very wise move at this moment, as much as it galled him. But if he wanted to find out who these assholes were, and why they had done this, he needed to be alive to do it.

But there were more commandos at the mouth of the alley, and as soon as they saw him, they lined up like an execution squad and took aim with their automatic weapons.

"Oh shit, "he exclaimed,discovering the alley was a dead end. In more ways than one.

He knew he should have never come to Los Angeles.

3

Angel descended the main staircase of the Hyperion Hotel, and noticed not much had changed since he'd returned to his room an hour before. Cordelia was still sitting behind her desk, pretending to work at the computer (actually she was playing solitaire), and Wesley was seated on the sofa in the lobby, paging through a thick tome written in Aramaic, which mainly concerned parasitic demons from the Middle East. But suddenly he realized he was wrong -there was something different. "Where's Gunn?" He asked, just throwing the question out, not aiming it at anyone in particular. Not surprisingly, it was Wesley who answered, barely glancing up from his book. "He went out to patrol his old neighborhood, see if his friends needed a hand in hunting vampires."

"That's a good idea," he admitted, reaching the ground floor lobby and heading to the coat tree where his duster was now hanging. "Did he just leave? Maybe I'll go help."

"And leave us here to die of boredom?" Cordy snapped, turning away from her computer game. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm not bored," Wesley said, not bothering to glance up from his book this time.

Cordy snorted derisively."You never are."

"Hey," Wes replied, looking confused, obviously trying to decide if that was an insult or not. He couldn't make up his mind, so he changed the topic. "We are supposed to be doing research, Cordelia."

"On what? Nothing?"

"Yes, exactly. Or at least reasons why there might be nothing," he said, wearily rubbing his eyes, causing his glasses to slide down to the bridge of his nose.

Angel could sympathize with Cordy's frustration. Things had been unusually quiet lately, demon wise. And while that should have been a good thing, it was suspect and worrying -demons never decided to go on vacation en masse unless there was something worse than them moving in. So far,t hey hadn't found anything, and Cordy had been 'vision' less for over a week now, which was even more disturbing (although not from her point of view).

Angel shrugged on his duster, and admitted -at least to himself- that he was restless and frustrated. Doing nothing drove him crazy. He'd done nothing for, oh, ninety years or so, and that was more than enough.

"I'll see if Gunn and I can track something down," he offered lamely, and Cordy frowned violently at him.

"That's all you've been doing lately, and you haven't even come up with one lousy vamp," she complained bitterly, turning back to her computer.

"That's not true. There was that one vampire a week back ..."Angel trailed off, suddenly aware of how foolish and desperate he sounded. Damn it, he needed to find something to beat up.

Just as he turned to go, Cordy exclaimed, "Oh no!"

He spun on his heels and raced towards her, dodging the front desk as she seemed to jerk back violently in her chair and grabbed her head with a painful groan. By the time Angel reached her, Wesley close behind, she leaned forward and rested her head on her keyboard."What the hell was that?" She gasped.

"What?" Angel asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice."What did you see?"

She sat back ,panting slightly from the pain, a hand clamped firmly to her forehead. "Um, there's this place, Metcalfe's Flowers ...it looks like World War Three is going down there. There's a bunch of guys in black..."

"A cult?" Wes interjected.

She started to shake her head, but it proved too painful, so she instantly stopped. "I don't think so -they're armed to the teeth. More like ...military. Something like that. I didn't get a cult vibe ...anyways, they're after this guy, he's on the roof ..." As she trailed off, she looked directly up at him." You have to hurry, Angel. They were just pulling out a rocket launcher, and he wasn't doing that well anyways -there must have been a dozen guys on him."

"Do you know why?" Angel wondered. Considering an army was against him, he assumed it was important.

"No, except ...he has these things on his hands. It was silver metal..."

"Gauntlets?" Wesley asked, then clarified, "Metal gloves?"

"I know what gauntlets are, Wesley," she hissed sourly."And no ...I can't explain it."

"It doesn't matter, I'm gone," Angel said, moving quickly towards the door. But as he was leaving, he heard Wes ask,"Is he human?"

And Angel was partially out the door when he heard Cordy say,"I don't know."

4

Logan had decided he could probably take the guys with the guns when they decided to open fire. Which just figured somehow. Unleashing his claws, he ran up the wall, using his claws to find purchase on the brick as he scrambled up to the roof, the bullets buzzing past his ears like bees, occasionally tugging at his clothes, and one punched through his calf just as he pulled himself up onto the roof. The pain was searing, but something in the back of his mind told him it was just a flesh wound and nothing to worry about. After all, his flesh healed in no time.

As he rolled to his feet, he found something to worry about. A half dozen commandos swarmed over the opposite side of the roof, headed straight for him.

He ducked under a rifle swung like a baseball bat and hooked the man by his heavy clothes, throwing him behind him and off the roof as another commando hit him with the modified taser, the electricity arcing through him as he managed to jerk away and turn into a kick, taking the commando down at the knees as he staggered back, elbowing another one hard in the face. But the bastards were everywhere, teeming like flies, pouring over the roof in a steady stream, and even as he raked two of them with his claws, he got hit with another taser, and someone slammed a gun butt into his kidneys, driving him to his knees.

He slashed wildly with his claws, breaking free and rolling to his feet, only to be met by kicks to the face and the back and rifle butts to the back of the legs, nearly beating him back down again. But he knew if he went down there was a good chance he wouldn't be getting back up.

He sliced through a gun butt as it met his face, and slashed a commando as he tried to jab him with a taser, but as he stumbled back, trying to get more solid footing, the roof suddenly disappeared, and only his claws snagging the edge of the building kept him from falling off. As he started pulling himself up, he was met with a solid boot to the face, his nose breaking on impact, but he managed to grab his leg with a claw, sweeping him forward and off the roof He screamed as he fell, quieting with a sickening thud.

Bullets not only screamed past his head, throwing shards of brick into his face, but he felt something explode beside his body, and glanced down to see several commando boys aiming rifles up at him. Just beyond them was a smaller clot of commandos, one of whom was lugging a large tube that looked an awful lot like a shoulder mounted surface to air missile launcher.

Oh shit.

He knew from experience he could recover from almost anything, but he doubted even he would recover from being blown to pieces.

/

As Angel's car screamed around the corner, he saw several dark figures streaming down from the roof of the unassuming flower shop, and he feared he was too late. You'd think the PTB's could do something about traffic. He hit the gas pedal, going full throttle, and turned onto the sidewalk, hitting the brakes as he plowed into a crowd of gun wielding men. Several opened fire even as others were thrown into the wall of a neighboring building, and the bullets shattered his windshield, several of them hitting him in the chest as the glass rained down upon him.

Snarling from the pain, he stood up and jumped over the frame of the windshield, landing feet first on the hood as he let his vampire face emerge. "I really hate getting shot," he growled down at the remaining commandos, who gaped up at him in total shock.

"Demon," someone farther away shouted. "Retreat!"

They started backing away quickly, firing over his head as an attempt at covering their retreat. Angel jumped down in front of them, slamming a gun butt back in the lead man's face as he kicked another away, and as the rest broke and run ,he noticed another man taking aim at the roof of the building with a missile launcher.

He looked up and saw a man scrambling up over the edge just as he heard the whine of the missile launcher powering up. One of the commandos plucked up the courage to attack him, trying to jab him with some sort of electrical weapon, but Angel evaded the clumsy jab and grabbed the man, throwing him into the soldier boy with the launcher just as he fired the missile.

The missile went wide, but clipped the very edge of the building and exploded. Angel ducked and covered his head with his arms as the chunks of brick facade rained down upon him (and he cursed as he heard the metallic thuds of the brick hitting his car), wondering if the man he was supposed to save was somewhere in the debris, atomized by the blast.

As soon as the cascade of detritus lessened to a dust cloud, he looked up to see all the commandos, save for a few who were either unconscious or dead, were gone. That was quick.

But he decided to puzzle over that later; right now,he'd have to see if there was a client left to save.

A good third of the top half of the building was gone, most of it a collapsed ruin falling out into the street, and it was the glint of streetlight off silver that caught his eye. Hadn't Cordy said he was wearing something silver?

Angel had to clear a few larger pieces of rubble aside, but he soon uncovered the man ...or was he a man?

The silver things he saw were long metal claws that appeared to be growing out of his hands. He was sure it was an optical illusion, but no -it wasn't a glove or a brace he was wearing; they erupted out of the skin of his knuckles like badly broken bones.

He thought he was dead, and mentally cursed himself for being too late, but that's when he noticed him twitch slightly as he shifted debris aside. He was alive? How?

He had to be a demon -he'd come down with part of a building. No human could survive that. But he was unlike any demon he had ever seen, and his blood smelled human.

There was quite a bit of blood too; he was a mass of lacerations that had left his face caked in it and shredded his blue plaid shirt, and a small puddle of blood was forming beneath his head, suggesting a gashed scalp or something far worse. Yet he was still breathing, and fairly strongly too. It made no sense at all.

He heard sirens far away -obviously the explosion had caught someone's attention, even if the shooting hadn't- and even though he knew he was risking harming him further by moving him ,he didn't know how he was going to explain the guy's claws to an EMT (or his own bullet wounds, for that matter). He hefted him up in a fireman's carry, careful to avoid his razor sharp claws, and was amazed at how heavy he was. He wasn't a big man by any means, but he felt twice as heavy as he looked, which was odd. It's the metal, he thought, and then wondered where that thought came from, but it was logical.

Now he hoped he hadn't kill him trying to save him.

5

Cordy was resting on the couch with an ice pack held against her throbbing forehead, trying to will away the lingering pain of her vision (the PTB's just couldn't give her a break, could they?), when Angel came in through the doors, a man draped over his right shoulder. "Is he all right?" She asked, getting to her feet as he carried him over and laid him on the couch.

"Good lord," Wesley exclaimed, getting up from his seat behind the front desk. "What are those?"

Cordelia knew instantly what he was referring to -the silver things she had seen on his hands. Eeew -not on, in his hands."He has claws?" It seemed a little surreal, as well as gross. "What is he,a robot or something?"

"Robots usually don't bleed," Angel said, looking down at the man curiously. He then frowned deeply, as if he saw something he didn't like. "But since when do humans heal so fast?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, looking the man over. He was pretty bloody, but as she looked closer, she noticed he had no obvious wounds. His shirt was torn to shreds (plaid? Did he not know grunge was over?), and stained with blood, but the visible skin of his chest appeared unbroken. And what a chest. A bit hairy, but nicely muscled; he was stranger than she liked, but what a build. "What happened to his hair?" She asked. It sort of rose up on the sides, like peaks, and looked a bit like animal ears.

"I'm not sure," Angel admitted, frowning at that too.

Wesley came over for a closer look at one of his clawed hands."How badly was he injured when you found him?"

"He was on top of the building when its roof collapsed. I thought he was a demon when I found him still alive, but he smells human."

"How can that be?" Wesley wondered, crouching down beside the couch and examining the man's claws close up. He seemed to be trying to determine where they came out precisely, where it matched up to the bones of his hand.

And that's when the man moved.

He was so fast he was almost a blur, and startled a yelp out of her. Before she realized what was happening, Wesley had been knocked backwards into Angel, who managed to catch him and keep them both upright, and then the man was on his feet before the couch, holding out his clawed hands in a threatening manner towards her and Angel's faces.

"Who the hell are you people?" He growled, looking between them. He seemed to be ignoring Wesley, which, if you thought about it, made a certain amount of sense.

Angel didn't seem at all concerned about the three steel claws in his face, even though Wes seemed pretty alarmed, and she wasn't all that comfortable with it either. "That's what I was going to ask you,more or less," he admitted casually.

"You know what I am. You did try to kill me," he snarled. He then glanced around the lobby, and his brows knit together in confusion over his startled blue eyes. "Is this a hotel?"

"We aren't the people who tried to kill you," Wes pointed out, more politely than necessary.

"Nice try, but he should have changed his clothes before you tried to sell me that." He dipped his head at Angel, who was wearing black on black clothing (typical for him). He then wrinkled his nose, looking more confused than ever. "You don't smell right."

"Hey," Cordelia snapped. She'd had enough of this weirdo's crap. "He just saved your goddamned life -so what if he doesn't smell like roses? You should be grateful, not threatening to maul us!"

He gave her a startled glance, as Wesley said, "I don't think that's what he meant."

"You know I'm not human?" Angel asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have an acute sense of smell."

"You can't be a werewolf," Wesley commented. "Although you sort of look like one. No offense."

"What the fuck are you people on?" The man exclaimed, exasperated. "Werewolves? And what do you mean you're not human? What the hell are you then?"

"I'm a vampire. What are you?"

The man just stared at him for a good long minute before saying, "'re a vampire, and -wait,don't tell me- the Brit's Van Helsing and she's Vampira or something." The claws retracted into his knuckles -ick!How creepy was that? -and he dropped his hands to his side, shaking his head. "And you all live in a hotel and raise bats for a living. Good luck to ya."He stomped past Wesley and headed for the door, sinking deeper into his torn and blood spattered leather and denim jacket.

"You can't just leave," she said, going after him and grabbing his elbow. He yanked his arm from her grasp, turning to give her an annoyed look. "I didn't have some brain shattering vision so you could just insult us and walk out the door! Now what the hell are you and who were those morons trying to kill you?"

Looking at him close up, she realized, in spite of the dried blood and his thin, stubbly beard (and that oh so unfortunate hair), he was a good looking guy. A really good looking guy, considering how unattractive he should have been. If she could have at him with a razor and some of Angel's hair gel, she bet he'd be drop dead gorgeous. His green eyes narrowed as he considered her words, and he shot a brief but suspicious glance at Angel and Wesley. "Vision? You're psychic?"

"Well ...no. I mean, sort of. But not in a way that can help me win the lottery, although god knows I've tried." The PTB's couldn't give her a break there either; she was pretty sure they had a sick sense of humor if they even had one at all.

"You're a mutant?"

"Mutant?" She scoffed, offended. "I am not a mutant! I'm just ...umm, help me out here guys."

"Mutant?" Wesley repeated, as if that was somehow a revelation. "Yes,of course -I hadn't even considered that. But I thought mutants were born, not ...constructed."

"I wasn't constructed," the man snapped, giving Wes a dirty look.

"His mutation is heightened senses, and a rapid regenerational capability," Angel said, gazing steadily at the man. "Right?"


	2. Part 2

"Good guess." He admitted, glaring back at him suspiciously.

"But what about your claws? I haven't seen that as a plastic surgery option,"she asked, glancing at his hands. Wow, Angel was right -the cuts the claws had left in his hands were totally healed over now.

"It's a long story," he mumbled, obviously wanting to duck the issue. But how in the hell did you expect people to act when you had metal claws?

"We've got time," she shot back. It wasn't like they had a client or a life or anything like that.

"I don't," he replied curtly, and turned back towards the door. What a major 'tude problem; no wonder they were trying to kill him.

"They'll come after you again," Angel pointed out dispassionately. "And you know when they're packing missiles they mean business."

"I've dealt with worse," Clawman replied, not even looking back.

Cordy snorted in disbelief. "Oh sure you have. What kind of macho bug do you have up your butt?"

That made him shoot a dirty look at her over his shoulder. "What?"

"Oh please,you are so-" She paused as the throbbing in her head got worse, and she had to close her eyes to block out all the painful light in the lobby: it had suddenly felt like icepicks in her brain. It was only then she realized she could feel it building, a storm in her synapses that threatened to boil over, and she barely had time to gasp, "Oh shit," before the excruciating light exploded in her mind, and she saw-

-an alleyway, abutted by a vacant lot where all junkie paraphernalia came to die among the weeds, and she felt the fear before the image of the woman crossed into her vision, attractive and young, Asian looking, and Cordy felt, as always, like a sick voyeur as she watched the young woman get surrounded by black clad men -them again - they were among the same kind, she knew it-

-and the vision ended abruptly as reality crashed back down on her, the light of the lobby still hideous but no match for the fresh, molten throbbing in her brain. "It's those assholes again, Angel," she gasped, squinting against the light and looking up at the man who held her upright. But it was Claws who had caught her, supporting her against his chest, as Angel and Wesley stood on either side of her.

She attempted to stand on her own, but was still a bit weak in the knees, and Angel took her by the arm and led her to the sofa, where she gratefully collapsed.

"Angel?" Claws repeated, eyes scudding between them all. "Is she all right?"

But they ignored him, which served him right. "The men in black?" Angel asked her.

She gave him the smallest nod possible, as Wesley briefly disappeared and quickly returned with a glass of water and serious pain relievers. It was times like these she thought he should be canonized. "Yes, they're after this girl ...I don't know why, but they've got her cornered in that vacant lot near 43rd."

He nodded and turned to leave, as Claws said," You mean the commandos? They're attacking someone else? Now?" He turned his steely gaze on Angel. "Where's 43rd?"

"Why do you care?" Angel replied coldly, walking past him out the door.

"Hey," Claws snapped angrily, following Angel. "I was the lucky one -they only tried to kill me. I think they did kill my friend. I know they killed his family. I have to know who these dickheads are and who they're working for, but what I really want to do is kick their asses."

Angel stopped at the doorway, turning to study him carefully. "Why should we trust you if you won't trust us?"

Claws groaned, sounding frustrated. "You know what? Fine. I'll just follow you .But stay out of my way. I don't want to shred you by accident."

Angel scoffed. "Like that's going to happen." He walked out the door, the cool breeze of the night flooding the lobby and actually feeling quite good right now.

"Watch it ,bub. I can do it on purpose," Claws said,r ight on his heels.

As soon as they were gone, Wesley gave her a curious look. "And the Powers that Be thought he was worth saving?"

She could only shrug. "Hey, I'm only the messenger."

6

As a condition of giving him a ride in his poor dented car (replete with bloodstains in the back, thanks to his surly passenger), Angel made the mutant tell him something- anything- about himself. The first thing he reluctantly offered up was his name -Wolverine. "That is not your name," Angel replied, smirking at the guy's gall. Actually, if there was a shortage of gall on the market, he knew exactly who to blame.

"It's what I go by," he protested,retreating into a disgruntled silence. After a block or so, he added, "My name's Logan, but don't call me that."

"Whatever you say, Logan." Angel tried hard not to smile at the evil look he was giving him out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes it was just too easy.

"What the hell's your name?" He asked.

"Angel."

Logan snorted derisively."Yeah, sure it is."

"It's what I go by."

The silence was actually quite nice, even though the smell of blood was about to drive Angel crazy; damn he was hungry. He knew he shouldn't have skipped lunch. But he'd live until they returned to the Hyperion.

Logan broke the peace by asking, "Who was the girl?"

"Cordelia. The man was Wesley, not Van Helsing, by the way."

"She's a mutant, isn't she?"

"No, she's a messenger for the Powers That Be."

"A what for the who?" He sounded doubtful, and really he couldn't blame him- obviously he didn't know vampires existed either.

"I'll tell you later," he said, pulling to an abrupt stop by the curb.

Across the street, the alleyway Cordy had been referring to was blocked by a large black van, a type with heavy tires, the kind it would be almost impossible to shoot out. And there was something about the matte sheen of the metal that suggested the body of the vehicle was impervious to bullets too. "They're ready for war," Angel muttered to himself.

But Logan heard, and as he jumped out of the car, he said, "So am I."

Angel quickly followed him, unsure about getting a civilian involved in this, but he wasn't your ordinary civilian, which became clear as they crossed the street. Logan threw his hands down by his side, and the claws emerged once more. Angel had to admit to himself that looked pretty cool -it would be kind of nice to have weapons like that, built in and ready to decapitate any vampire or demon he came across. But he didn't know if he'd heal quite that fast.

Angel raced ahead of Logan and jumped up on the roof of the van, trying to get an idea of how many soldier boys they'd be facing this time, and saw a chilling scene. About a dozen of them clogged the alleyway, but beyond them he could see the vacant lot, and at least a half dozen more of them were attacking someone, ringed around the victim, using those electrical weapons he'd seen earlier, and ...clubs? They looked like long wooden clubs, and as he heard them thud against flesh, he also heard inhuman noises, growling and snarling.

This girl wasn't a mutant this time -she was a demon.

Logan vaulted over the van's hood and landed on the other side ,right behind a commando whom, as he turned, got a vicious headbutt that instantly knocked him cold. But as soon as his body hit the pavement, all the remaining soldiers had turned to look at them.

The man Angel presumed to be their leader, grizzled looking and about ten years older than the rest, with hard grey eyes and a livid scar on his left cheek, smiled grimly as he looked between him and Logan. "Look at this boys," he drawled, his voice betraying his Midwestern roots. "We've hit paydirt."

They swarmed towards them like attack dogs, and Angel jumped right into the center of the fray, punching and kicking a path through the soldiers in hopes of reaching the girl before they could kill her. He didn't look back to see how Logan was doing, but he didn't need to; the screams and heavy thuds told him he was holding his fact, his punches sounded a lot meatier than most, and he remembered how heavy he was to carry. He really was full of metal, wasn't he? Why?

Angel made it to the end of the alley and broke for the vacant lot, ripping a club out of one of the soldier's hands and smashing the end of it into the base of his skull ,taking him out for the better part of an hour. As he threw him aside, another soldier pulled out a canister of something, and only when he threw the contents did Angel know what it was : holy water.

It hit him right in the face, splashing in his eyes, and he wheeled away screaming, clawing at his face as he could feel it eating away at his flesh like acid, melting through muscle and bone. He was hit hard from behind, and he couldn't help but drop to his knees.

Even blind he lashed out, hitting his attacker in the knee and taking him down as the bone shattered, the man's screams sickening and yet somehow satisfying. But then the group was on him, and he felt the shock of the electrical weapons he had seen them using earlier, felt three or four of them hit him at once, and as much as he wanted to move he couldn't; he was paralyzed.

His vision started coming back slowly. His eyes still burned, but he could see fuzzy things, vague shapes and haloes of light, even as the soldiers pummeled him, trying to keep him down even though his only movements were involuntary muscle spasms.

Angel thought he heard some rather loud cursing, and an electric snap of the modified taser weapon firing, but the human scream that followed confirmed it hadn't hit him. From the inhuman, almost cat like snarling ahead of him, he knew the girl was fighting back, and from the continued cursing and thuds behind him, he knew Logan was working his way through the rest of the commandos in the most painful way possible (for the soldiers at least -it didn't sound like Logan was doing the majority of the cursing).

Concentrating on what little muscle control he had left, Angel managed to kick out and take one of his attackers down, but that earned him a solid boot to the side of his head that sent his consciousness reeling.

Then he heard the bone chilling noise of a wooden club being cracked in half.

He rolled into the legs of the nearest commandos, taking them down, but he felt the paralyzing sting of the taser weapons, leaving him numb once more.

There was noise all around him, scuffling, the hum of a motor, and then someone grabbed him from behind, lifting him up to his still unsteady feet. Angel snapped his head back hard, hoping for a reverse headbutt, but his target dodged the blow."Easy bud, it's me," Logan said, setting him back on his feet. He stumbled, but Angel managed to keep his balance. "Our asshole friends decided to make a tactical retreat."

Belatedly, he wished he'd ask Logan to slash their tires. "The girl?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. They still stung enough to make him want to claw them out, but it was lessening slightly, even as the skin beneath them felt like it was smoldering, and he could make out the blurry shapes of the building surrounding them.

He could also make out a shape rising from the tall weeds before them, two tiny phosphorescent green lights accompanying what appeared to be a very feminine silhouette.

"And they say chivalry is dead," the woman purred, her voice all silk, as the green lights that were her eyes died down to a more normal human color. But even through the veil of burns occluding his vision, Angel was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was. "Thank you, boys. How can I ever repay you?"

Logan cleared his throat, seemingly distracted, and that confirmed she was what he thought she was. "Did you -uh- did you know those guys?"

"I should say not. Oh,you poor thing, are you hurt? Why don't I kiss it and make it better?"

As she approached, Angel grabbed out at her blurry shape, catching her arm and stopping her."Kitsune, I wouldn't." He warned.

"Kitsune? You know her?" Logan asked, sounding like he was starting to snap out of the trance she was attempting to weave.

She laughed, a deep throaty sound that was undeniably attractive, but Angel shrugged it off, and told him, "No,it's her species. She's a Kitsune, also known as a 'fox spirit', but actually she's a kind of demon. A seductive trickster, but physically harmless."

"I don't have to be harmless," she said, in fluent Japanese. "Tell me what you and your friend like. I'll try anything once."

"I know your tricks, so don't bother," Angel replied, also in Japanese. He felt her tense slightly, and figured that meant she hadn't expected him to know the language. Another con?

"Hey, can I be let in on this conversation?" Logan asked brusquely, sounding like his normal self. "Wait -fox spirit? Demon? What are you -crazy or Catholic?"

The Kitsune yanked her hand from Angel's grasp, and made a noise of annoyance. "You vampires are never any fun."

"Vampire? You mean he ...okay, did I inhale some sort of toxic chemicals? What the fuck are you people on about?"

Angel ignored him, focusing as best he could on the shadowy figure of the demon woman. "Did you try and lure one of the commandos, and he had too many buddies for you to trance at once?"

"Of course not -military types are no fun either. I was just taking a shortcut to this nightclub when I suddenly realized I was surrounded, and when I saw how they were dressed I figured the stories were true. I thought I was a goner." Her voice became velvet again, smooth and soft. "But then you two knights in shining armor showed up. I'm not sure what your human friend's deal is, but you are the handsomest vampire I have ever seen. No wonder someone chose to turn you."

"Cut the crap. What stories?" Angel said impatiently, his vision fading in more but his skin still burning. What he wouldn't give for a sink full of cold water right now.

"I am not his friend, and does he look like Dracula to you?" Logan interjected, then paused."Well, okay, maybe from certain angles ..."

"I'm not telling you here. If they're the Omegas, they might be coming back with reinforcements."She smiled slyly, and he had enough recovered vision to see it. "Maybe the three of us could go back to my place."

He saw Logan out of the corner of his eye, looking at something in the grass, nudging it with the toe of his boot. "Commandos with wooden sticks?"

"Clubs of willow," Angel replied, before shooting a smirk at the woman. Supposedly the wood of certain willow trees had a negative, weakening effect on fox demons. "And I don't think so, Kitsune. What's your name?"

"Fenna. What's yours, sweetheart?"

He sighed, and grabbed her arm once more, turning back towards the now open alleyway."Okay Fenna, we're going back to my place."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that. I bet you have a lovely crypt." Even though she sounded perfectly sweet, he was sure she was being sarcastic.

He dug his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them towards Logan, who proved he had superior abilities by managing to catch the keys even though he never actually saw them coming towards him. "You're going to have to drive. My vision hasn't completely returned yet."

"Drive where?" Logan wondered, finally looking at the keys.

"Back to the Hyperion, the hotel."

"A hotel? Even better." Fenna cooed.

"You're supposedly a vampire, and yet you own a hotel?" He asked in disbelief.

"I don't own it; I'm leasing it." Angel started down the alley with Fenna, disappointed but not surprised that the commandos (the Omegas?) had collected their injured before running off. He should have thought to grab one from the carnage around the florist's shop.

"Oh, well that makes much more sense," Logan said sarcastically, following them.

"You two are certainly a fun pair," Fenna remarked, sounding genuine for perhaps the first and last time of her life. "What did you guys do, lose a bet?"

It certainly felt that way.

7

Fenna was determined to make this as difficult as possible for everyon e-that's what passed for humor among the Kitsune. Angel's vision had returned, more or less (fuzzy haloes of light remained around most things, but they were slowly fading away), although from the way Cordy had grimaced at his face and offered him her ice pack, the burns on his face weren't healing fast enough and must have looked pretty bad. Logan had asked him if they tried to hit him with acid, but when he said it was holy water he snorted in disbelief, and added a completely unnecessary "Yeah right". He really hoped 'Wolverine' left as soon as possible.

Right now, he was sitting around the front desk with Fenna and Wesley, as Cordy had convinced Logan he couldn't go anywhere covered in blood unless he wanted a less than friendly meeting with the L.A.P.D., and Cordy was now upstairs raiding his closet, as she insisted Logan couldn't wear what was left of his shirt (once he was gone, she added,_"Besides, he looks like a really, really bad hair._")

Wesley was attempting to look up any references on groups of armed men -certainly there had been demon hunters almost as long as demons, and several 'secret societies' had sprung up around the practice- but he was constantly being sidetracked by Fenna, who relished using her powers on him even though it accomplished nothing. Angel had a feeling she was just doing it to annoy him, which wouldn't have surprised him since he was a 'spoilsport' vampire.

She was an attractive young woman beyond any doubt, with a heart shaped face, flawless ivory skin, and almond shaped brown eyes framed by glossy, shoulder length hair as black as night. She was beauty personified, and had a long, curvaceous body to match. But, being Kitsune, she could alter her appearance to a certain degree, and you could never trust your eyes.

They had no idea what she actually looked like, and probably never would.

Wesley logically knew this, and tried his best to avoid being entranced, but he was only human, and Fenna knew it. She'd laugh silently when Wesley lost his train of thought in mid-sentence, became so flustered and red in the face he almost dropped his book. Angel wished he could kick her under the desk, but it wasn't that type of desk, so he was out of luck.

He snapped his fingers in front of Wes's face, startling him out of the trance he was falling into. "Wh-what?" The Englishman asked, blinking rapidly and sitting up straighter.

Angel glared at Fenna."Stop it now, or I'll find my willow cane."

She sulked obviously, as Wes, still looking bewildered, asked him, "Did she do it again?"

He just nodded, and Wes flushed with embarrassment, glancing back down at his book.

"Fenna, just tell me the story," he sighed, on the verge of giving up. "Then you can enrapture Wesley all you want."

"I beg your pardon?" Wesley exclaimed.

Fenna smirked, a single corner of her perfect mouth quirking upward. "You want me and you know it, Angel."

"I want you to talk before I decide I like the taste of Kitsune blood."

Her eyes narrowed to deadly slits, briefly flashing phosphorescent green. "You wouldn't dare."

"I'm a vampire -try me."

She studied his face for a minute, and Angel was still hungry enough that she believed him. Pouting even more, she rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, people talk -you never know what's truth and what's shit. I just assumed it was shit. There's been talk of a group of guys in black -Ghrenik calls them the Omegas -that have been rounding up demons and randomly nabbing or killing human mutations over the last couple of weeks. No one grabbed by them has ever been seen again."

"Why Omegas?" Wesley asked, looking up from his book ,but he only glanced at her askance, not daring to look directly at her; he'd be entranced in a second if he did. In fact, he'd made that mistake when they first returned, and he was distressingly zombie like until Cordy hit him in the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger.

She shrugged. "I don't know. He just makes up names for people."

"Who is this Ghrenik?" Angel wondered.

"He runs a pawn shop ...er, a mercantile exchange on the West side. Out of a coffee shop."

"I swear I've seen a reference to Omegas," Wesley insisted, getting to his feet and pacing over to the bookshelves. As he searched for a specific volume, Fenna leaned over the desk, and asked seductively, "Why don't you and me go have some fun while Poindexter's busy?"

"You wouldn't like my idea of fun,"Angel warned her, willing Wes to hurry up.

Where the hell was Cordy?

/

She needed to take Angel shopping. No, she needed to shop for him; men had a tendency to just get in the way while clothes shopping. Especially broody men who insisted on all black wardrobes. Still, she managed to find a nice black shirt among all of Angel's nice black shirts, and brought it to the room where Logan was cleaning up,j ust down the first floor hallway. She knocked on the door, but when there was no answer, she figured he was in the bathroom and barged in.

"Okay, I've got the shirt-" she began, but stopped abruptly, as Logan was standing in the open bathroom doorway. His hair was still dripping wet (and it looked normal! She knew it couldn't have been natural),and he was standing there half dressed and pissed off, naked from the waist up, his jeans loosely pulled on and still undone.

"You call that a knock? "He groused, turning away to zip up his jeans and grab a towel from the rack.

"Sorry," she replied, but actually she wasn't. Wow; it was almost a shame to give him the shirt.

She put the shirt on the bed as he towel dried his hair, and she glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watching rivulets of water run down his well defined chest. Why couldn't she find a body like that on a guy with a good job and a fat bank account, who wasn't undead, a demon, or just a narcissistic asshole? Obviously it was too much to ask.

"I also brought you something else," she told him, holding out the cannister she'd also brought.

He looked at it, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What the hell is that?"

"Mousse. I'm sure Angel won't miss it, and I know it could do wonders with your hair. In fact, I'll be happy to-"

"What is it with you and my hair?" He interrupted testily, draping the towel around his shoulders. "My hair is my hair. Leave it alone, will ya?"

She offered him the can of mousse once more, and he gave her a remarkably dirty look that seemed unwarranted under the circumstances -she was trying to do him a favor- so she set it on top of the nearest table, hoping he'd take the hint and use it after she was gone. Men and their machismo.

"Hey, I was wondering -is Logan your first name or your last name?"

For some reason, that made him pause and look thoughtful. "My first, I think. I'm pretty sure."

"You don't know?" That was weird. What, did he have amnesia?

He seemed equally startled and embarrassed by the question, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He even had a really nice back. "I don't have a lot of memories. They ...did something to me, I think, to make me forgot what they had done, but I have a few ...flashes every now and then."

"What who had done to you? Do you mean the claws?" She replied, curious about the change in his voice and demeanor. For the first time since he'd shown up, he'd finally dropped the 'tude, and almost seemed like a real human being.

He shook his head, and said, "Forget it. It's a long story."

"So you keep saying. But I have time." She came over and sat on the edge on the bed, not too close so as not to make him uncomfortable. "The claws weren't your idea? Who would do that to you and why?"

He sighed wearily, his back tensing, but he seemed to make the decision to give up and just get it out in the open. "They were military, I think, or affiliated with a similar type of group -I have the dog tags to prove it, but I have no idea who they are. I wasn't the only one they fucked with, although I suspect I was one of their more ambitious projects. I think I was supposed to be a human weapon, a super soldier, or at least that's the explanation that makes the most sense.

"I've been trying to dig up more info on my past, on the people who did this to me ,but they covered their tracks well, and so did I. But I did find out about a man who most likely had been in the project with me, which is why I came here. He'd come here with his family, running from something by the sound of it, and I can't help but think they caught him anyways."

"You think these commandos are part of the group that ...altered you?" She tried to think of a nice way to put it, but it was difficult, especially since she was angry for him. What kind of evil bastards would do that to a person, mutant or not?

Hesitantly, he said, "At first, when they attacked me at Wra- Metcalfe's place, I thought so. But after seeing them go after that girl, I'm not so sure. They seemed unprepared, disorganized somehow."

"Probably because they were the demon hunting unit -the ones at the flower shop were the mutant hunters, I guess."

He looked at her sharply, his eyes full of suspicion. "Why do you say that? And what's with all this demon shit?"

She sighed wearily, rolling her eyes, wondering how a theoretically smart man could be so stupid. "Look -there are mutants in the world, there are also demons in the world. Is it really so hard to believe? And let's get this out of the way now too -Angel is a vampire, but because he has a soul, he's a good guy; other vamps aren't. Yes, he drinks blood, but no, not from people, and he can't go out in sunlight or he'll go up like the human torch, and if you have a cross, don't wear it around him, okay? And that woman you saved is some sort of demon I've never heard of, but she's one of the annoying but harmless variety -not all demons are bad. Some are, Angel can tell you which is which if you need to know, but in general, if they're trying to kill you, they're bad. Now stop this skeptical crap before I find a creative place to put that can of mousse."

He stared at her for a moment, then snorted in an aborted laugh. "So that's what you do around here? Have visions and kick everyone's ass?"

"That's about the size of it."

"You're very good at your job."

She smiled at the compliment, and to her surprise, he smiled back. For a millisecond. But it proved he could do it if he had to, and it looked good on him. If he'd only cooperate long enough for her to make him over, she could make him gorgeous. He looked away quickly, though, and she returned to the previous topic, whether he liked it or not. "You said you had flashes. What do you remember? Did you remember Metcalfe?"

He shook his head, still looking down at the floor as if he'd found some fascinating pattern in the dust layer on the old beige carpet. "No.I haven't remembered anything useful. I just see shadowy men -I think they're mostly men- and a strange room. Mainly I just remember the pain -I felt like I was being flayed alive." His wide, smooth forehead furrowed as he considered what he had just said, and he admitted, "I think I was flayed alive when they put this adamantium skeleton in me. They knew I'd heal; I always do."

"Oh god," she gasped, and out of reflex, she reached out and touched his shoulder to comfort him. But as soon as she touched him he jerked away like she was made of electricity, and he got to his feet ,snatching the shirt off the bed as he suddenly stalked off to the bathroom.

He must have admitted too much; he figured out he'd dropped the macho facade farther than he'd intended too. Men were so queasy about that kind of thing. But she couldn't help but feel a bit queasy herself -had he really been flayed alive? And he had a metal skeleton?

She really hoped demons were somehow responsible; she hated to think humans would do that to another human being .But she'd lived in L.A. long enough to believe it.

"Is everything he owns black?" He carped, shrugging on the shirt.

"Pretty much."

"Is it a vampire thing?"

"No, it's just an Angel thing. He's way into the mopey, broody stuff." She managed to keep the _'like you'_ comment to herself. He probably had good reason for it, and he hadn't been at it for nearly a century, like Angel. Had he?

He came back into the room, buttoning up the shirt, which seemed like a small crime. "Has he got anything useful out of the girl?"

She shrugged, getting to her feet. If he wanted to pretend the previous conversation never happened, fine, but she knew it did, and she couldn't forget it even if she wanted to. "When I left them, she was busy trying to work her mojo on Wesley -god knows why- and Angel kept having to snap him out of it."

"Why doesn't it work on him? Whatever it is she does."

"I don't know. Maybe demons are immune, or vampires, or just old fogies."

"Old fogies? How old is Angel?" He wondered, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

She sensed another long and pointless conversation, so she waited until she was by the door before she told him, "Two hundred and forty seven years old, give or take a year. Sometimes I lose count, and it's not like he celebrates his birthday."

He didn't bother to hide his dubiousness." You're making that up."

"I am not. Ask him if you don't believe me." She left his room, and he quickly followed her out, muttering to himself, "The world gets weirder every goddamned day."

He didn't know the half of it.

/

"Here it is," Wesley said, returning to the front desk with a leather bound book. "The Omegas were the nickname of a group of demon hunters active in the American Southwest at the turn of the century. Their stated goal was 'purification'."

"Purification?" Logan repeated, and they all turned to see him coming down the staircase, trailing just behind Cordelia. He looked more human now that he had cleaned the blood off his face, and his hair seemed to have straightened itself out, at least for now. "That's a polite way of saying genocide, isn't it?"

"Oh, hey cutie," Fenna purred at him, and Angel cleared his throat impatiently, shooting her a warning glance. She wrinkled her nose and briefly stuck her tongue out at him in what could only be considered a spasm of maturity.

"Er, quite," Wesley agreed, continuing to scan the passage in the book. "They slaughtered more than a few demons -they rendered three species technically extinct, to the best of our knowledge- but their reputation attracted demons wanting to make a name for themselves, and the last of the Omegas were slaughtered by Berserker demons fifty years ago. They were never heard from again."

"Until now," Angel mused, running a hand through his hair. He had no idea why he was so tired, but tonight had felt like the longest night of his life. "So someone's decided to pick up the mantel once more."

"But this time they've added mutants to their hit list," Logan agreed, coming up to the desk and standing beside him. He had glanced at Fenna, who smiled and leaned farther over the desk, displaying as much cleavage as possible (and Angel would swear she had developed larger breasts in the last ten minutes), but Logan was careful not to look at her directly again."How do we start tracking them down?"

"We?" Angel asked.

Logan scowled at him. "You don't think I'm just walking away after all that's happened, do you?"

"No," he admitted wearily, mentally adding, _But I wish you would_."There's a Scaflok demon named Ghrenik who runs a black market business out of a coffee shop, and seemed to know who the commandos were. It's not much, but it's a place to start."

"Great. We rolling?" Logan asked anxiously.

Angel nodded, suppressing a sigh. "Might as well. You can go now, Fenna. Thanks for the help. I think."

"Go? Why would I go? I rather like it here," she insisted, smiling as smugly as a cat.

Cordy cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest, staring daggers at Fenna. "Hit the bricks, Foxy Brown, before I chase you out with a broom."

Fenna rolled her eyes extravagantly, but she took the hint. "Be that way. In that case, boys, can I get a lift?"

Angel shook his head and walked towards the door, Logan right beside him.

Fenna harrumphed loudly, and called after them, "You dead guys are such killjoys."

8

He tried to be subtle about it, but there was no way to be subtle while searching for a zipper. Logan was sure it had to have one somewhere, unless this was a costume attached with velcro.


	3. Part 3

He was trying really hard to believe in vampires and demons -and that Angel was one of them -but this thing supposedly called Ghrenik was just too much. It looked like a rejected creature design from Industrial Light and Magic.

It was not quite six feet tall, with mottled green and brown skin that had what appeared to be scabby barnacles covering every inch, including its face, which was large and seemingly fish like, with big flat eyes and a huge lantern jaw that made up half of its head. It had no apparent nose, and it smelled weird. Angel smelled human but somehow not, but this guy ...he smelled like he'd been sculpted from hot glue and kelp, with a little vinegar thrown in. Disgusting.

How'd he do it? What was the trick?

As Angel questioned the thing, he wandered around the coffee shop, looking for who knew what, but it was better than trying to make sense of what Ghrenik was saying. It sounded like he was talking in burps, which wasn't nearly as disgusting as his breath,which suggested he'd been dumpster diving behind the nearest fast food restaurant and morgue. If Angel did have enhanced senses ,how did he stand it?

It was an overly quaint coffee shop, closed for the night, whitewashed wooden chairs on top of naturally wood stained round tables, with pink gingham curtains dressing up industrial blinds, the walls a matching pale pink that made him think of antacids. There was a glass counter full of pastries besides the main counter, and while the air was thick with the scent of coffee and biscotti, the reek of Ghre-whatever was dominant and nauseating. How did the patrons never smell it?

Against the counter by the wall was a corkboard, full of tacked on messages that were supposed to give it a homey feel he supposed, but it seemed so patently artificial he wouldn't have been surprised if this was a set of some kind.

Trying to distract himself from Ghrenik's constant burp talking (he would swear he just heard him belch the starting bars of the 1812 Overture), Logan studied the scraps of paper on the board. There was nothing much, just a bland assortment of lost item postings, one lost pet, a couple of apartment ads, people searching for babysitters or roommates, while a few were promoting themselves. But one business card, tacked near the bottom, caught his eye.

In bold blue letters, it said: _Are you different from others? We can help._

He pulled the card off the board, and saw a generic setting sun/palm tree logo in blue and green on the left side of the card, with the name 'Safe Harbor' centered in dark blue print.

The first question that popped into his mind was how they could 'help' exactly. Of course, this was L.A., and this was probably a support group or a twelve step program or something like it, but it just seemed like a hell of a coincidence. He walked towards Angel, who was standing at the counter like he was ordering a latte instead of arguing with a hellish burp monster, and held out the card to him. "Who are these people?" He asked.

Angel glanced at the card frowning. "I don't know." He took it from him and showed it to Ghrenik. "What do you know about these people?"

Ghrenik burped some more incomprehensibly, so Logan took the card back and tucked it in his pocket. It was probably nothing, but it felt like a clue of some sort, and right now he felt desperate enough to grasp at straws.

He tried to judge from Angel's expression what barnacle boy was saying, but Angel just seemed to scowl a lot; he had about seven different varieties of frowns, and Logan thought there was maybe two at most. Cordelia wasn't exaggerating about him being a broody type, was she?

Angel thanked Ghrenik, and Logan took that as their cue to go, which was fine by him. The smoggy night air actually smelled good in comparison to the shop, and as they got in the car, he noticed for the first time that the acid burns on Angel's face were completely healed now. Not bad for a non-Mutant. "So what did old burpy say anyways?" He wondered, climbing into the passenger seat. If the car had a windshield and a few of the dents banged out of its body, it would have been a really nice convertible.

Angel shrugged as he got behind the wheel, bothering to use the car door even though the top was down."Nothing much. He claimed that a friend of his cousin saw them once, and referred to them as Omegas because they too used to dress in black. I think he was lying, but more out of fear than anything else. He's terrified, and I can't blame him."

"Was that the reason for the stench?"

"Only the vinegary part."

So he did smell it. He was a better man than him then, at least when it came to strong, hideous smells. "What about that place, Safe Harbor?"

"He said he didn't know too much about it, except it's some sort of counseling center that sprung up about a month ago just outside Pasadena. He said it deals mostly with human mutants, but some demons apparently go there, and some of his semi-regulars have commented on the place, but they only had positive things to say."

"Mutants and demons? Just like the ones the Omegas are hunting?" He wondered. Again, hell of a coincidence.

Angel scowled again as he considered that, his brow creasing in a mimic of his grim expression. "And the time frame. The demon activity around town has been unusually slow this past month."

"Let's go."

That startled Angel out of frown number seven. "We can't just go."

"Why the hell not?"

Angel had to think about that for a moment. "We need a plan."

"We go in and bust heads until someone tells us what's going on." That had always worked for him, more or less.

"But what if it's just coincidence? What if they are indeed innocent?"

It was Logan's turn to scowl. "How could they be? And even if they are, it'd be an honest mistake."

Angel shook his head and sighed as he started the car. "Leave the plan to me, all right?"

Logan shrugged, sinking back into the leather seat."Yeah, whatever. It's your crazy town."

9

From the outside, Safe Harbor appeared to be a generic upper class office building, three stories of sandblasted facade in a neo-Spanish style at the end of a quiet block that mostly housed internet related businesses or their adjuncts. At this time of night, most of the other businesses were darkened and inactive (ironic, since the internet never slept), although the floodlights pointed at their well landscaped lawns and sculpted trees were so bright it looked like dimensions had bled into others, and they were glimpses of other worlds in daylight. But Safe Harbor was just that -a harbor at the end of the street, well lit but not obnoxiously so, and obviously still open. It hardly looked like the base of operations for some sort of mutant/demon killing paramilitary organization, but looks could be deceiving. And wasn't the sorry Initiative run from beneath a college dorm?

Angel still wasn't sure about working with Logan on this, but from what he'd been able to discern, he was more than just a mutant with claws: he was a trained fighter. A soldier of some kind? But he seemed to improvise better than most soldiers. It was possible he was just a martial artist who picked up a heavy dose of street fighting skills, but there was more to it than that. It was obvious Logan was keeping secrets, but if Angel was to be honest, so was he.

And so far he had proven trustworthy. He had probably saved his life tonight, and he couldn't doubt his sincerity about wanting to find who had killed his friend.

But how stealthy was he?

"Don't worry. As long as they don't have infrared scans, I can enter through the top level undetected," Logan claimed, jumping out of the car.

"What if they do have infrared scans?"

"Then I'll know they're guilty, because what counseling service would have that kind of sensor?" He countered, then added, as an afterthought, "And I'll probably smell it. Infrared scanners have a decided ozone smell to them. Haven't you noticed?"

Angel shrugged."I suppose, but I don't care. I don't have body heat for them to detect."

Logan snorted derisively, shaking his head. "Yeah, whatever."

"How do you intend to get to the third floor from here?"

"I'll figure something out," he replied, walking away, and he dropped his hands to his sides, claws springing forward once more.

In retrospect, it had been a silly question.

Angel took off his jacket and hid it in the trunk; as part of his cover story, he wouldn't be wearing an expensive leather duster. Also, he was hoping to pass for mutant if at all possible.

There could be a dozen different demon killing groups in town, but he couldn't believe there'd be that many mutant hunters.

Pushing up the sleeves of his black sweater, Angel walked in the glass doors of Safe Harbor, bracing himself for anything.

It was anti-climatic to find himself in a crisply sterile lobby that could have been the waiting room of a doctor's office. Comfortable faux leather burgundy chairs were lined up neatly against the far wall, spaced in two separate rows of four, broken up by low slung black plastic coffee tables with slim metal framed lamps upon them, more decorative than necessary considering how brightly lit the lobby was. Realistic looking fake ficus trees and rubber plants tucked in corners completed the efficient office look, and he wondered if this was the right place. There had been a sign on the small patch of lawn outside, but maybe they had misconstrued Safe Harbor's actual purpose (and if so, Logan was committing a breaking and entering more illegal than they had intended).

"May I help you?" A woman's voice asked. She was sitting behind the semi-circular desk that dominated the lobby, a very current design of opaque lucite and fake chrome accents that looked more like a hotel lobby desk than one belonging to an office, but the woman herself seemed right at home. Pushing thirty at best, she had a warm and open face that seemed to radiate a maternal air, with her honey brown hair pulled loosely back in a French knot, and her eyes hazel and guileless behind gold colored wire rimmed glasses.

"Umm, I don't know ..." he admitted, feeling unusually nervous.

She stood behind the desk, smiling warmly. "It's okay, you're safe here. That is a part of our name after all."

He tried to smile back, but it felt false even to him.

"If you'll follow me, you can talk in private to one of our you have a preference of a man or woman?"

"I don't, no,"he replied, still feeling remarkably awkward. If this was a legitimate service, he'd feel like such a complete ass.

She nodded briskly, all business, and came around the desk, waiting for him to follow before she continued down a white stucco corridor. As he trailed behind her, he hoped he was as good a bullshit artist as he thought he was, and wondered how Logan was doing.

/

Despite the fact that it was a third floor window, there was some kind of bar lock on the inside to prevent it from being opened. It was thick and well placed, and should have made it impossible to open without breaking the glass.'Should have' being the operative words.

Precariously balanced on the side of the building, his right claw buried deep in the sandblasted facade and his feet set firmly against the wall, he reached over to the window and worked the tips of his left claw beneath it. Finally finding purchase and shoving upward, the thick metal bar holding the window closed snapped violently,and the window went up so fast and hard he almost shattered it, but at the last second he managed to grab it and keep it from doing so. That would have defeated the purpose of this whole exercise.

Logan glanced in the darkened office before pulling himself through, but it was empty of both people and alarms he could detect by scent or sight. It appeared to be a completely generic office; a metal desk with a computer, a chair on castors, slightly anachronistic filing cabinets making strange man shaped shadows against the opposite wall. He could navigate well enough by the reflected light from outside that he didn't need to risk turning on the desk lamp, but what documents were on the desk were uninteresting. They appeared to be invoices for office supplies, and ...chemicals?

The names were impossibly large -he couldn't even begin to pronounce half of them- and they all appeared to be coming from a science supply place with a Las Vegas address (well, it was the scientific capital of the United States. If you disqualified the remaining forty nine states). Why would a counseling service need massive quantities of questionable chemicals?

He folded up the invoices and tucked them into an inner pocket of his jacket before moving on to search the drawers. The first three revealed office supplies, someone's forgotten lunch (an apple and a blueberry bagel sandwich, with cream cheese and peanut butter if he was judging the smell correctly -only in California), and a variety of pointless, nonsensical memos full of made up bullshit words like 'proactive' and 'meta-services' ,and 'intestinal parasites'(a double check showed it actually read 'intellectual paradigms'- but he preferred intestinal parasites). Just when he thought he'd found the only useful thing in here, he discovered the fourth drawer was locked. But not for long.

He inserted a single claws, tearing through the lock like wet paper, and slid open the drawer, only to find a small fireproof document safe inside. The metal and the lock were much better quality, but still couldn't resist his was a bit disappointed to find nothing but a couple of computer discs inside. But if someone went to the trouble to lock them up so tight, there had to be something on them that someone didn't want others to see, so he pocketed them and wondered if he should leave. Angel suggested if he found something important -or seemingly so- he should just take them and leave, and not risk it further.

But after thinking about it for half a second, Logan decided to see if there were any other surprises on this floor.

/

Angel felt like a fool. He had an introduction to a counselor named Paul, a tweedy middle aged man who could have been a Watcher for all intents and purposes, and he talked in a slow and soothing voice that made him seriously wonder if the man was on some kind of downers, but he smelled sober.

After what sounded like a soothing pep talk, Angel was given a form on a clipboard to fill out ('_completely confidential,'_ he was reassured). It seemed pretty standard: he gave his name as that of a man whose tombstone he'd seen in Sunnydale's Restfield cemetery (Glenn Maddox), the address of a construction site two blocks over from the Hyperion, and just picked a random age (28) and birthday (in retrospect, he may have picked Cordy's birthday, with the year altered to fit his story). It was then that the questionnaire took an unusual turn:

_'Do you feel you have different abilities or perceptions than other people? If so, what (specifically)?'_

It then gave a check list of what he presumed to be the more common mutations/demonic abilities, and he tried to stay truthful, checking off superior senses, rapid healing abilities/superior immune system, better than average strength/stamina, and superior reflexes. He'd have less to remember lying about, and what if they tested it somehow?

He decided eighteen was a good age for when he noticed his 'abilities', and made himself an orphan, saying both of his parents were dead and he had no living relatives (all true; there was no way he was going to add he'd killed them all).

Once he'd filled out his form, he sat in Paul's small office alone for five minutes, quite sure he was being monitored, and then Paul came in and played psychotherapist, trying to get him to talk about his feelings of alienation and loneliness and what not. Angel strained his ability to lie to the breaking point and wanting desperately to leave every second that passed.

His discomfort was soon impossible to hide, and Paul assured him there were others just like him and suggested he come back for a 'group session', where he could meet others of 'similar persuasion' (Wasn't that a tactful way to put it?). To get out of there he said he might, and accepted the card Paul gave him, with the date and time written on it. He was all warm smiles and soothing words, and while Angel didn't sense (well, smell) he was lying, he didn't trust him as far as he could throw him (No, that was an overstatement -he was sure he could throw him pretty far). The woman behind the front desk smiled at him as he left, and he wondered if she'd been among those monitoring him.

Something wasn't right about the place, but sadly he had no concrete proof of it at the moment. He could only hope Logan had found something and didn't get caught.

Apparently there was no need for him to worry -Logan was waiting for him in the car, going through his glove box.

"What are you doing?"Angel asked, annoyed.

"I was hoping you had something to eat. I'm starvin'," he admitted, and when he glanced up, Logan actually looked annoyed at him. "Where the hell you been? I thought I was going to have to go in after you."

"In the counseling session from hell." He got into the driver's seat, pulling out his keys, and asked, "What did you find?"

"A janitor at work in the hall. Luckily he was wearing an iPod and neither saw or heard me."He slammed the glove box shut with what seemed to be unnecessary force, and then reached in his pocket. "I also found some strange invoices, and these in a locked safe." He held up two discs, and Angel suppressed a smile. Maybe it had been worth it after all.

10

Angel knew Cordy hated it when he hovered over her shoulder, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know what Logan had found. Wesley was poring over the invoices at the front desk, various dictionaries at hand so he could determine what chemicals Safe Harbor was ordering in large quantities and what they might be used for, while Logan sat on the lobby sofa, finishing off a ham sandwich Cordy had in the office fridge. Angel was starting to suspect Cordy actually liked Logan, but he had no idea why. Maybe it was the less than tactful nature they shared.

As soon as she booted up the first disc, the screen filled with lines of gibberish, lines of unsequencial letters, numbers, and symbols, confirming just what he feared. "It's encrypted," Angel sighed wearily.

Cordy's shoulders sagged, and he saw her reflection in the computer screen frown. "This looks like another emergency call to Willow."

"What? "Logan asked, coming over to have a look for himself.

"A friend," she explained,glancing over her shoulder at him. "She knows all about this computer ... stuff."

"You don't?" He asked.

From the way Cordy scowled, she had taken that as a type of insult. "Do you?" She shot back.

"I don't know," Logan said, a strangely flat expression on his face, and Angel noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Cordy almost visibly flinched. What was that about?

Before Angel could ask, she turned back around and said, "I guess you guys can take a break. Willow probably won't be up for a couple hours yet, and it's not like it'll be an optimum time for you to go out, Angel."

He knew she was just trying to distract him from whatever that brief but puzzling exchange between her and Logan had been, but she had a point. Just before he stepped back inside the Hyperion, he had smelled the imminent sunrise, hiding somewhere beneath the horizon. "I could probably use the sleep too," Angel reluctantly agreed. He was tired, and he was sure Logan was responsible for some of it. He could be a wearying man.

"Wait," Logan insisted. "We have to stop these guys now. We can't just sit around-"

"And I can't go out in daylight unless I have an urge to burst into flame, and believe me, I don't." Angel pointed out. "Besides, as smart as Willow is, not even she can instantaneously decrypt a disc."

"And this may take a while as well," Wesley sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not a chemist."

"I can take over," Angel offered, but the former Watcher shook his head, flipping through one of the dictionaries.

"No, I can do it, I'm just complaining. Thirty six letter words have that effect on me." He shot Angel a small, tired smile,and Angel returned it. At least he was keeping his sense of humor about all of this.

"Fine, go to your coffin or whatever. Whenever we get something, I'll handle it." Logan said impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No you won't," he replied, staring at him levelly and ignoring the coffin comment (he had a feeling he'd just said that to try and piss him off). "This is a well armed organization, and we have no idea how big it is. You can't handle it by yourself."

"Wanna bet?"

"Need I remind you they would have killed you if I had not intervened?"

"You don't know that for sure," he fired back petulantly.

"I do," Cordy insisted, her hazel eyes filled with somber certainty. "I don't get visions about people about to be injured. They were going to kill you Logan."

After a moment, Logan shifted his gaze towards the floor, refusing to look contrite. But the point had been made, and he didn't know how to argue with her.

"And I don't need help to make a phone call," she continued, turning back towards the computer. "So why don't you get some sleep too? If we make any major breakthroughs, we'll let you know."

"I don't need sleep. I need to kill these guys," Logan snapped. Angel bet he was really fun at parties.

"Hold your fire, Terminator. We don't even know who they are yet," Cordy replied flippantly. "You'd be surprised how often that helps."

He huffed in frustration."You're not going to tell me that Safe Harbor place is legit, are you?"

"No," Wesley interjected, not bothering to glance up from his work. "But until we find a tangible connection to the Omegas, we can't just burst in guns blazing."

"Why not?" Logan wondered. All three of them stared at him, and after a minute he threw up his hands, rolling his eyes."Okay, yeah, fine. But what if there is no connection to be found? What if they've obliterated their tracks?"

Angel shook his head. "This is too big. The more people involved, the harder it is to erase all the details. Also,these guys are cocky; they don't expect to be caught, even hauling around surface to air missile launchers. It's often arrogance that shuts these guys down."

Logan glared at him for a moment, then said, in a low, almost plaintive voice, "I can't just do nothing."

"I understand that," he told him honestly. "But maybe doing nothing is the best thing you can do right now."

Logan's eyes turned positively frosty. "You were in that counseling session way too long."

Angel shrugged a single shoulder. "Probably. But once we have something to act on, I'm going to need you sharp."

"I'm always sharp, "he countered.

Angel moved closer, and told him, in a conspiratorial whisper, "You know damn well what I mean. We'll be going in alone; I'm not having them come along. It'll all be on us, and we'll probably be lucky to get out alive."

He met his eyes steadily, and actually managed a grim but genuine smile. "Sounds like fun."

Now he was really starting to worry about this guy.

11

Logan opened his eyes to sickly green lights the color of algae, and everything around him seemed distorted, as if he was seeing things through warped glass. He was.

Maybe it wasn't glass, and it probably wasn't warped, but it may as well have been. He heard murmuring voices like whispers down a wind tunnel, grotesquely contorted figures like caricatures gliding by beyond the opaque walls of his tomb, and he flinched as bright white lights flicked on overhead and some large rigging lowered slowly down, stopping about eight feet above him. He tried to see what it was, but the lights were blinding, and the shapes he could make out meant nothing to him.

Then the figures arrived: tall and dark, blurry exclamation points of people garbed in surgical smocks arrayed themselves evenly around his glass coffin, and he heard their voices, but their words were garbled. Yet he knew instinctively they meant to hurt him. He tried to sit up, but it was as if his body had turned to stone. He couldn't move.

Frantically he tried to move, to speak, but he was completely paralyzed; he wasn't sure he was even blinking as the intense lights made his eyes water, and he wondered how he was breathing ...if he was breathing. He didn't know anymore; his body was suddenly a stranger to him, a traitor who had abandoned him.

Something flashed red from the rigging above, and although he couldn't see anything when he looked directly at it, he though he could see red glimmers in the air in his peripheral vision. Lasers. They were aligning surgical lasers on him. They weren't going to operate on him, were they? He shouldn't be conscious; why was he still conscious?

A small voice in the back of his mind told him they wanted him conscious, they wanted him to know he belonged to them. And they wanted to confirm a hypothesis about him, about the freak they were so lucky to have ...

It was then he felt his skin being sliced open.

His heart pounded frantically in his chest as all the nerves in his body seemed to scream, the pain a fire growing rapidly as they neatly sliced his torso open down the center, and he felt every centimeter of it. He even felt the cold room air on his exposed muscles, and was more hollow and cold than he had been in his entire life.

Inside, Logan screamed and pounded on the walls of his mind, knowing for a moment that he was truly mad; the pain and sheer helplessness had shoved him into raving lunacy. This couldn't be happening, this simply could not be happening ...

Something metal scraped along his naked breastbone, sharp and frigid and far away, as if in another life, he heard someone laugh, and Logan silently screamed, unable to retreat far enough inside his own mind to block it out.

He would make them pay for this; if he lived he would make them all pay. They would suffer worse than he was now ... if he ever thought of something worse than this.

A whine of a bone saw filled his ears, and he wondered if he was already dead. He didn't think he believed in hell, but it was the only thing that made sense. He was dead, and this was Hell. People wouldn't do this to other people; no one could be this sadistic, this inhumane to another human being ...

It was then that a little voice in his mind -maybe his, maybe not- said,_' You aren't human, Logan. You're a freak. Their freak.'_

It was then that he felt the saw slice through bone.

Logan awoke with a gasp, his claws instantly shooting out of his knuckles and slicing through the mattress as he sat up, ready to do battle with an enemy who was no longer near, and whom he couldn't identify anyways.

Not unless he brought the saw with him.

He shot up out of bed, too restless to sleep, and after a moment of pacing he stalked into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water tap until it filled the sink, then dunked his face into the water, hoping the shock would both wake him up and calm him down.

Logan held his face in the water until his skin was numb and the urge to breathe was undeniable ,but when he raised his head, he found himself looking into the mirror to see a stranger's face. For a half a second, a heartbeat, and then he knew he was seeing his own reflection, but still the same old questions surfaced: Who were you? And why did they think they owned you?

It was reflex to punch the mirror, something he did before he was even consciously aware of it, and the glass shattered easily into a thousand silvered fragments that cascaded into the sink and spewed out over the cool tiled floor. Others bit into his flesh and shredded his skin, but he didn't care about those. He would heal, as he always did; he could even recover from a vivisection, which had to earn him a place in someone's freak show. Obviously, it had.

He retreated to the wall by the bathtub and sank slowly to the floor, wondering if they had done something to Wraith, but unlike him, he had retained all his memories. Is that why he had run? Did they (in his mind, capitalized:THEY. Like a stupid '50's horror movie, only it wasn't funny anymore) know, and intend to silence him for good? Or take him back? How did they escape?

Or did they in fact escape? Did he know for sure that's what had happened? Or had they been released deliberately, as some sort of test, and they intended to collect them soon. He hoped that was the case, as he'd love to meet the bastards; his face would be the last thing they saw.

He was weary to the pit of his soul, and wished he could have a mutation that allowed him to never sleep. For some reason his past came alive then, but always the same past, the same memories. It would have been better if he remembered nothing at all.

He flexed his glass cut hand, watching the last of the abrasions smooth over and heal close, and noticed for the first time a square of sunlight coming in through the opaqued bathroom window. It made the shards of shattered mirror glitter like diamonds on the white tile floor, and for a moment he thought of snow. He wondered if the fact that he was more accustomed to bright and cold as opposed to bright and warm was a clue to where it had happened ...or it was merely proof he'd been in Canada too long?

He decided he was going to get up and find something to d o-god knows he wasn't going back to sleep -but he felt strangely unmotivated. Why was he bothering? When it came down to it, did it matter who he was, who he used to be?

He was pretty sure it didn't, but it did matter who those people had been. They deserved to pay for what they had done, and if he didn't make them pay, who would?

Before he realized it, he had closed his eyes and slumped back against the wall, falling into an uncomfortable but dreamless sleep.

12

Ruthven entered Flemming's office, feeling strangely ill at ease without her seemingly ubiquitous lab coat, but there were some here who had no idea who (and what) she was and she meant to keep it that way. Ryan Flemming had a beautiful office, wide and spacious, it was larger then her first dorm room, with a window wall to let in all the available sunlight as it crested the unnaturally verdant hills beyond, the haze of the city beyond an unpleasant but negligible smear on the distant horizon. His desk was mahogany, polished to a high sheen, and a nice counterpoint to the rich burgundy carpet and brown leather chairs and sofa that filled up the rest of the sparsely furnished space. It occurred to her every now and then that she could live in this office.

But not with him.

Flemming swiveled around in his plush leather chair to face her, his somewhat bland, pale moon of a face set with a hard look that suggested he had already heard bad news today. And now he was about to hear more.

"Yes, Jennifer?" He said, running a hand through his blunt cut brown hair. "You have a report for me?"

"Yes sir," she replied, and just decided to forge ahead. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible."McMahon told me they had a vampire visit the site last night, posing as a mutant. And at the same time, there was a break in in the upper offices."

Flemming frowned, giving his usually puffy face almost skeletal definition, his grey eyes almost sinking back into his head. "Why do you think they're related? And why in the hell would a vampire try and pose as a mutant?"

"We're not completely sure about that last one. He made no move to attack the counselor or anyone on site, and no corpses were found on the perimeter we have reason to believe this was the same vampire who interfered in a hard target termination earlier in the evening, and that's the connecting factor to the break in: the outside wall had what appeared to be claw marks in it. The mutant targeted for termination was notable for his claws."


	4. Part 4

She brought forward the dossier she'd brought with her,and set it on his large desk,next to his flat screen computer.He opened it instantly,and as soon as he saw the surveillance photos,he paused to study them carefully. 

"I've heard of a mutant with metal claws.If this is who I think it is,things could get very interesting very fast."He glanced up at her from beneath his thick eyebrows,and gave her a cold but pleased smile."He'll make an excellent subject for our experiments." 

"Oh?"Ruthven had glanced at the entire report,which had indicated a demon acquisition team had been attacked earlier that evening by two 'demons':a vampire,matching the description of the one who turned up later at Safe Harbor,and an 'unknown variety' of demon,unremarkable save for great strength and 'shiny claws'-it could only be the earlier mutant,misidentified.She really didn't like this at all;two men,albeit unnatural ones,had managed to beat back squads containing at least a dozen men.They were obviously very dangerous,and should be scheduled for immediate termination. 

"I have connections out East,and they've mentioned a physically augmented mutant called 'Wolverine'.Supposedly a big bad ass and virtually indestructible;his regenerational abilities are so great he can supposedly recover from presumably fatal injuries." 

"That sounds demonic." 

"It does,but supposedly he's a purely human freak of nature."Flemming sat back in his large leather chair and smiled rather smugly,bringing his hands together under his chin in an almost prayerful repose."If we cut his throat,will his windpipe heal before he can suffocate?I know it'll heal before he bleeds to death.What about a bullet to the brain?A badly aimed shot will kill him instantly,but others would be merely life threatening..." 

"With all due respect,sir,I don't see how this fits in with the research,"she interrupted,working hard to keep the disgust out of her voice.Physical torture of the subject would be pointless-she needed hard data on how certain viral vectors affected mutated individuals,not useless data on their personal pain thresholds. 

"Haven't you yourself noted mutants with rapid healing abilities have unusual immune systems?He'd be a perfect test subject for the agent,don't you think?If it'll kill him,it will kill all the freaks." 

Their immune systems weren't unusual:they were,in fact,superior.But Flemming didn't like like that word used about mutants in any respect,so she used as many as neutral euphemisms as she could think up.And she wanted to point out that throat slashing and gunshot wounds to the head had nothing to do with gauging immune system responses,but she knew he knew that:he was trying to weakly excuse his own dark thirst for torture and sadism.Also,he was often brutally mercurial,and you never wanted to be on his bad side. 

She dipped her head in agreement,adding,"He would be the ultimate litmus test."But then she carefully brought up a salient point he had overlooked."But don't you find it worrisome that a vampire and a mutant appear to be working together,against us?Vampires,by nature,are solitary creatures with no concerns beyond their own appetites.If this is not an isolated incident,humanity could be in serious trouble.Demons and mutants working together could ensure the destruction of the Human race within a year." 

He smirked,showing the periodic insufferable arrogance that made her want to slap him as hard as she could."I'm sure they've cut a deal,or maybe they're bang buddies-I don't know,and I don't care.It's hardly proof that humanity's enemies are finally uniting for a common goal." 

"We should make examples of them,just to make sure none of the rest of them get the idea in their heads." 

"Kill them?What a waste of a good mutant.As for the vamp,come on,Jennifer;stick a wooden fork in him,and he's done."He then picked up one of the surveillance photos,and studied it carefully."Although,maybe not.He fights very well,doesn't he?He might be good for the pit." 

"I still think-" 

"I know what you think,"he snapped,and the cold,hateful look in her eyes made her retreat into silence.He was her benefactor,after all.Wthout his favor (financial support),she'd be slaving away in some medical lab somewhere,anonymous and redundant.Here she could be completing the work that would ultimately save humanity,even if she was working for a monster. 

He shut the dossier,and said,"I'll have Morton track down the vamp.We find the vampire,we find Wolverine."He then smiled coldly,but it was a relief not to be in his angry sights anymore."And that's when the fun really begins." 

    13 

    Angel came down the staircase to find all the usual suspects in the front lobby-Cordy was still hunched behind the computer,looking incredibly tired,but a very wide awake Gunn was hovering behind her,peering over her shoulder. Wesley was curled up on the sofa,asleep,an open book resting on his chest and his glasses slightly askew.He wasn't quite snoring,but he was close. 

Gunn looked up to see him first,and the young,dark skinned man scowled at him."Man,when you dig for dirt,do you always unearth a graveyard?" 

Angel just stared at him uncomprehendingly."What?" 

"After what seemed like three Sunnydale lifetimes,I - Willow was able to break the encryption," Cordy told him.She had dark circles under her tired hazel eyes,and her newly short chestnut hair hung limply against her cheeks.She'd been up for at least twenty hours now,by his estimation. 

"And you found something interesting?"An obvious,stupid question,but they let it slide. 

"No.What we found was some sort of accounting program ledger or something,"she said with scorn,waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. 

"But there was something weird it,"Gunn interjected,picking up the narrative.Someone must have filled him in on the previous proceedings."This Safe Harbor joint was listed as a holding of the  
Syon Corporation." 

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and frowned as he joined them behind the front desk."Never heard of them." 

"Neither did we,"Cordy admitted."But a web search eventually turned up a magazine article that referred to the Syon Corporation as a 'massive tax dodge' for Ryan Flemming and Genisystems."They both looked at him as if this had been a major bombshell,and he shifted uncomfortably,reluctant to say what was on his mind. 

But Gunn must have seen it."You have no clue who they are,do you?"He asked,in a manner suggesting he knew the answer. 

Angel hesitantly nodded,feeling like a two hundred year old idiot."No,no idea." 

"Look,I know you're a dead guy,but have you been living under a rock?"Cordy asked incredulously."Ryan Flemming is only a software kajillionaire,probably the richest one in this state,which is saying something." 

"And Genisystems is some big deal software company,second only to Microsoft.Even I know that."Gunn finished,trying not to sound smug but failing. 

"What would that have to do with a counseling service for mutants and demons?" 

"Could he be a demon?That might explain a lot,"Gunn said. 

Angel turned instantly as the lobby door opened,tense and alert,and even the sleeping Wesley was startled to consciousness."I'm awake,"he claimed,sitting up and causing the book to fall to the floor. 

But it was Logan who came in,giving Wes a strange look that he probably deserved."Good for you.Want a medal?"He said sarcastically,but Wes was still groggy enough that it went over his head,or at least by it. 

"Where have you been?"Angel asked,and kept his voice studiously neutral.He'd heard the faint noise of glass breaking a few hours ago,and he was relatively sure it came from the room Logan was staying in,so he went downstairs to make sure he was all right.He knew it couldn't be a full frontal assault-Logan would make a hell of a lot more noise fighting even a sizable contingent of ninjas-but he snuck downstairs and into his room,just in case. 

He never found Logan.What he did find was a clawed bed,the shattered remains of the mirror glittering on the bathroom floor,and a room full of the smell of fear.He must have had a nightmare,a very bad one:everyone was scared of something,but he almost didn't want to know what had terrified Logan that much.He'd never smelled fear on him before,not even when he was besieged by the commandos. 

As for the mirror,it was his guess he punched it out of frustration or self-loathing.He'd hit mirrors for the very same reason,although he never saw his own reflection.He wondered what was going on with him,but Angel knew he wouldn't want someone asking him that very question,so he wasn't about to ask it of Logan. 

But he felt he had some insight into him now-in spite of his overconfident demeanor,he was deeply troubled,and possibly for very good reason.It almost shamed Angel to realize Cordy had come to that decision long before now. 

Logan frowned at him,back to his usual fearless self.It was a comfortable fiction he was happy to go along with."I went to get my bike.I left it outside of Metcalfe's place." 

"And it was still there?"Cordy exclaimed in surprise."In Los Angeles?Does it turn invisible?" 

"No,but it can take care of itself."Logan's eyes narrowed at Gunn,who was studying him with obvious curiosity."Who the hell are you?" 

Gunn raised an eyebrow at his cold tone,but decided not to take it personally."Charles Gunn,I work with these guys.So you're Logan,huh?" 

"What gave me away?"He sniped,then looked at Cordy."What have you got?" 

She filled him in,and for a moment,Angel held out hope that he wasn't the only one who didn't know who Flemming and Genisystems was,but Logan's brow furrowed,and he replied, "Genisystems?That software company?" 

Damn it!Now he really felt like a moron. 

"So rich boy's behind this,huh?"Logan grumbled."Makes sense.That many guys would cost a lot,not to mention their weaponry.And their silence." 

"All we know is he has a connection to Safe Harbor,nothing more,"Angel countered,not wanting to admit Logan had a point. 

Logan suddenly shot an acrid glance at Gunn,who had been surreptitiously stealing glances at his hands."What the fuck are you staring at?"He growled,almost literally-his upper lip curled,exposing a canine tooth that could have passed for a fang."You want to see my claws,huh?" 

Gunn was clearly startled by the vitriol in his words,and took a step back.The menace radiating from Logan was nearly palpable."Hey man,chill,I didn't mean anything by it.It's just that when Cordy told me you-" 

"I show you my claws,"he snarled."And they'll be the last thing you see." 

Angel put his arm out,holding Logan back as he took a step forward,but without warning Logan threw a hard elbow-metal hard-and caught him in the side of the face. Angel reeled backwards as Logan advanced on Gunn,who made the unwise decision to hold his ground. 

Cordy shot to her feet,and stood right between Logan and Gunn."Back off,"she warned angrily,staring him straight in the eye."He didn't do it." 

Now it was Logan's turned to be startled along with Angel-what did she know?Had she seen his room and drawn the same conclusions?"What?"Logan asked,still angry,but Cordy's words had unbalanced him and he was no longer in attack mode. 

"You know exactly what I mean.Now go sit down over there."After a brief pause,she added,with a good deal of menace in her voice,"I mean it,Logan.Now." 

Angel briefly rubbed the growing bruise on his face-at least it confirmed his hypothesis that he had metal all over,more or less-and while he knew he could have tackled him while distracted by Cordy,he decided to see how this played out.She seemed to have some kind of info on him that Angel was lacking.So why hadn't she shared it with the rest of them? 

With an annoyed huff,he took a step back,lowering his hands balled into fists (but Gunn would have been lucky if he only punched him)."You're just lucky I have a weakness for pushy women,"he told her,storming off towards the recently Wes vacated couch. 

"I'm not pushy,"she shot back."I'm...assertive." 

Gunn scoffed,which he tried to cover with a fake cough when she glared at him,but nobody bought it. 

"What was that about?"Angel asked her,not bothering to look to Logan for answers.He was hardly forthcoming. 

But Cordy barely looked at him before taking her seat once more."You're asking me?I'm not the one with the macho bug up his butt.Could the testosterone poisoning in this room get any worse?" 

"You wanna tell me you're not pushy again?"Gunn commented dryly.Then his dark brown eyes scudded over to him,and he asked,"Hit the sweet spot?" 

"What?" 

"I've never seen you beat back with an elbow before." 

"Logan isn't your typical Human,"Angel said,hoping to leave it at that.But he could see the new questions forming in Gunn's eyes,and he didn't know what to say or how much to tell him.Thankfully,Wes came to the rescue. 

"I did find several of the chemicals,"Wesley interjected nervously,straightening his glasses.He probably didn't know any more about Logan than Angel did,but he wanted to defuse the tension before it exploded anew."They're generally used in medical and scientific research." 

"What kind of research?"Logan asked,sounding anxious as he bounded right back up to his feet.That struck a nerve.He had no idea why,but Angel knew it had. 

"They have multiple uses,it seems,but they seem most likely to be used in the fields of genetics and virology." 

They all thought about that for a second,and Logan was the first to curse."Motherfucker!"He spat,slamming his fist on the front desk and putting a hole right through it. 

"Whoa,"Gunn commented."How strong are you?" 

Logan threw another evil look in his direction,but otherwise ignored him."They're either trying to make mutants or kill them.Either way it doesn't sound good."Logan said,staring at Angel,and he knew it was only aimed at him.After all,they were the ones that had to put a stop to this thing."But since the commando squads are murdering mutants left and right,I'm betting on the latter." 

"Okay,jumping to conclusions much?"Cordy replied,but then,after a moment's hesitation, added,"But on the other hand,I wouldn't be all that surprised if Flemming was involved in this somehow.There's just something...creepy about him." 

"If that were a crime,most of L.A. would be in jail,"Gunn opined. 

"Does Flemming have a corporate address?"Angel asked,but then quickly added,"No,wait-do we know where these chemicals are being shipped?I doubt they'd be going to Safe Harbor." 

"I'll check,"Wesley said,picking up the papers off the intact side of the front desk and studying them carefully."No,I don't believe so." 

"Back to corporate,"Angel said. 

"Genisystems has a huge complex in Pasadena,but I doubt he ever shows up there,"Cordy replied."The microserfs write the codes now,not him." 

"Wait a moment,"Wesley,said,holding the paper up to the light.The invoice was printed on thin yellow paper-a copy of a copy,perhaps-and it appeared almost translucent with the light behind it.But Angel could just barely make out what Wesley was squinting at;there was an impression on the paper,as if someone had written on the first copy,but not hard enough to have it show up on the other copies."There's a Pasadena address here,but not Genisystems,I believe."He laid it out flat on the desk,and carefully wrote down what pieces of the address he could make out on a notepad.He then ripped off the sheet and showed it to Cordy."Is this Genisystems address?" 

Cordy looked at it,then checked her computer screen."No.But it's close." 

"Let's go,"Logan said,although it wasn't so much a comment as a demand. 

"Why not?"Gunn said with a shrug."I always wanted to see how the rich white geeks live." 

"You're not going with us,"Angel told him. 

Gunn glared at him."The hell I'm not.Even with the hairy Terminator over there,you're still going to need some back up." 

"What did you just call me?"Logan snapped. 

Angel rolled his eyes,but only Gunn could see it."We don't know what this place is;it could be nothing more than a warehouse.If it turns out to be more,I'll call you.But right now,I need you to get Cordy and Wesley home." 

"What?I'm the driver now?"He replied crossly,glowering at him. 

Cordy shut down her computer,and stood,taking her coat off the back of her chair and shrugging it on."I need some sleep.You can drop me off,Gunn,or just give me your keys.I'll drive myself home." 

Even Gunn knew that sounded bad,and he threw his hands up in a gesture of frustrated surrender."Just blackmail me into it.Man,you are in one assertive mood today,Cordelia." 

"Twenty hours without sleep does that to me,"she replied,then looked at Wesley."You ready?" 

"I'm fine,"he claimed,suppressing a yawn.At the chorus of disbelieving looks he received,he admitted,"I suppose I could use a couple more hours' rest." 

The three of them left,but at the door,Gunn stopped and looked back at him."I mean it man-call me,or I'm comin' after you." 

"I'll let you know,"he promised,but it felt like a lie. 

As soon as they were gone,Logan gave him a curious look,and said,"Cordelia I understand,but why the hell do those guys hang around?Are they relatives?"Before Angel could think of a response,he shook his head,and said,"Never mind.Can we just go now?" 

Angel sighed wearily,and grabbed his duster off the coat rack in the corner.He just knew this was going to be a long afternoon. 

    14 

    Logan decided he hated it when Angel was right. 

After what seemed like an unnecessary amount of bother-Angel told him to drive,and hid in the back seat of the car,a blanket pulled up over him because it was 'still sunny' and he'd burst into flames if he wasn't covered up-they found the location.And if that wasn't bad enough,he made him pull over into a shady spot before the building's entrance,so he could use a sewer tunnel access to get into the joint.Even beyond the grossness of that(how did he stand the smell?!),this seemed to be an almost pathological problem.Did he really believe sunlight would kill him?  
The address did indeed belong to a warehouse:a large lot of big industrial warehouses with a well locked gate,completely fenced perimeter,and several redundant security systems,including armed guards on the premises. 

None of which slowed him down for a second. 

He parked far from the gate and found a 'blind spot' on the perimeter,then easily scaled the ten foot high chain link fence,slashing the razor wire at the top so he didn't get cut before jumping down to the other side (of course,a cut would be no big deal,it was just the principal of the thing).Then he just started walking,having no clue what he was looking for,but confident-again-that he'd know it when he found it. 

The lot smelled heavily of car exhaust and various chemicals,some so sharp and acrid they gave him an instant headache.He was guessing this place wasn't up to EPA codes-but when you had a lot of money,did you give a fuck? 

He soon found Angel loitering in the shadows of one tin warehouse roughly the size of an airport hanger,talking softly into a cell phone,telling Gunn it was indeed a warehouse lot,and nothing exciting.Of course,they hadn't really explored it yet,but he knew he didn't want the kid in on this,and he knew damn well why:he was only human.No matter how bad he obviously thought he was,if the commandos showed up,he'd be dead in ten seconds.Which,in Logan's opinion,would be no great loss,but Angel liked him for some unfathomable reason. 

Once he was done giving the polite version of the 'stay the fuck away' speech,he pocketed the phone,and Angel gestured quietly at the warehouse behind him.Logan gave it a quick once over before peering around the corner. 

There was nothing special here-it was a big ass warehouse that matched about a half dozen other big ass warehouses on this lot...and then he realized he didn't smell anything around it.The other places carried the reek of their chemical contents,but not this place,which indicated the products were stored better here, or it was empty.On the surface,absolutely nothing to worry about,but it was different,and it was best to find out why. 

They split up,Angel going around back as he went around front,and he found the huge loading doors securely locked.After glancing around to make sure no one was in hearing range,he shot out the claws on his right hand and sliced through the locking mechanism:a key card reader that spit sparks at him,sending brief electrical shivers through his metal pseudo-skeleton before it died away.Then the door slid open, and he braced for a fight. 

It was disappointing to find nothing but black metal drums waiting for him. 

He heard something behind him and turned with his claws extended,nearly impaling Angel,who stopped just in the nick of time."There's no back entrance,"he said neutrally,but his slightly startled hazel eyes seemed to say "You're a crazy motherfucker,aren't you?".If he wanted to think that,fine-Angel was obviously unstable himself,hiding from the sun and traveling in sewer tunnels,and wasting time with that dorky British guy and the inexcusably cocky Gunn.Cordelia was the only one who made sense:at least she had a power. 

Angel glanced beyond him,scanning the contents of the warehouse,and frowned."This isn't what I expected." 

Logan didn't bother to agree,although he did;he simply retracted his claws and decided to have a look around.Angel joined him,soundlessly heading over to the opposite side of the warehouse,and he had to grudgingly admit that was perhaps the only likeable thing about the comically hulking (you could probably fit Wesley and Gunn side by side within the width of his shoulders:the guy was built like a quarterback.Or possibly Frankenstein.) and broody guy-he was generally quiet,and didn't need to be told what to do. 

The metal drums all had various hazardous materials warnings on them,and felt/sounded more or less full,stacked three deep against the wall,ringing the warehouse like an emergency barricade.There was nothing on them that told him what precisely was in them,which was very disappointing. 

He paused in the middle of the cavernous warehouse and sniffed the air,trying to figure out what was bothering him about this place.Something was wrong here,and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

"Smell something?"Angel asked,coming up beside him.He shook his head in frustration,and Angel commiserated,"I know.It's really clean in here." 

And that's when it hit him:he knew what the problem was."Not clean-sterile,"he told him,scrutinizing their surroundings with greater interest."This place has been sterilized." 

Angel joined him in searching the place more closely now."But there's no sterilizing equipment here.Maybe they brought a team in." 

"Why bother?" 

Angel shrugged his broad shoulders as he scrutinized some near by barrels."Maybe they had a spill." 

"Or maybe they knew we were coming." 

"Maybe-"Angel began,then stopped,suddenly looking down at the ground.Logan felt the tremble too,and had a split second to wonder if it was an earthquake before the floor suddenly disappeared beneath them,and they both fell into a pool of white light. 

They both managed to land on their feet,but as Logan straightened up,he heard a loud,echoing crack,like a dozen guns being cocked at once.He looked around to find them both surrounded by twenty black clad commandos,half with semi-automatic rifles and the other half with...crossbows?All aimed at their faces,with their fingers tensed on the trigger. 

Logan stood back to back with Angel,and said,"This looks pretty damn bad,doesn't it?" 

"I've seen worse,"Angel replied,and Logan almost smiled-he picks now to crack jokes.A guy after his own shtick. 

Then two of the rifle boys fired. 

When one of the shots hit him in the throat,Logan reached up and grabbed what appeared to be a hollow dart-drugs?As if in answer,he suddenly lost all feeling in his legs and hit the cool white floor hard,feeling light headed as a growing numbness spread through his body.He was dimly aware of Angel collapsing to the floor beside him as he heard the soldier boys talking but couldn't understand their words. 

'This can't be happening again;I won't let it,'Logan mentally raged,fighting to stay conscious. 

But it was his last thought before the darkness flooded into his mind and swept him away. 

    15 

    He woke up,freezing to death. 

For a second he thought he was functionally blind;he saw nothing but white,pristine and as bright as the sun,but then he moved,and he saw...he wasn't sure what he was looking at.Dark spatters peppered the flat white snowscape as far as his blurry eyes could see,and when he looked up,he saw the sky was actually tending towards grey,the clouds heavy with the promise of more snow.  
He shoved himself up to a sitting position,feeling numb to his core,and as cold as a block of ice.How the hell did he get here?Where was he? 

Who was he? 

Only then did he realize he was naked,save for some metal dog tags hanging from a chain around his neck,and he tried to look at them,but they were frozen fast to the skin of his chest. 

If it was that cold,why wasn't he dead yet? 

He stood up,even though his limbs didn't feel like they were a part of him-they felt like frozen meat somehow grafted onto him-and tried to have a better look at his surroundings.It was then he noticed the smell:acrid and raw,melted plastic and slagged metal,charred flesh... 

Something horrible had happened here,and he was vaguely aware he was somehow involved in it,but he didn't know how,or why.He knew he should get out of here...but his mind was as empty and barren as his surroundings,as clean and untouched as the snow;he was operating on pure instinct and nothing more.He was barely conscious,and still didn't understand how he could be alive at all. 

He was so cold he couldn't even shiver,and he could barely walk;he staggered through the ankle deep snow,towards a familiar shape in the near distance.After what seemed an eternity,when he was sure he'd no longer be able to stay on his numb,stone cold feet,he reached it.It was a truck,all its windows shattered,its snow frosted glass sparkling on the front seat and floor of the cab like ice crystals. 

Ironically,the door was locked,but he reached through the missing window and unlocked it,and once he opened the door,he saw a muticolored blanket spread over the back of the beige vinyl seat.As soon as he crawled inside,over the icy broken glass,he pulled it over himself,wrapping himself up tightly as he curled into a fetal position. 

He didn't feel any warmer,but soon he began shivering so hard it was painful,and feeling began returning to his extremities;an excruciating feeling like a thousand needles in his bloodstream,trying to stab through his skin,but he knew that even pain was good.It meant he still had circulation,and maybe he wasn't going to lose vital body parts due to exposure. 

Except something in his mind told him he couldn't really contract frostbite;his body wouldn't allow it.Unless he completely and truly died,no part of him could die on its own. 

He didn't understand,but that was why he wasn't worried about the glass.He knew it would shred his skin,but not for long.He didn't die,because he couldn't die-not like this. 

Why? 

The sun broke through the smothering blanket of grey clouds,its rays faint but warm and welcoming,and after some time,when the pain became a little less excruciating and the shivering a little less violent,he felt the metal tags on his skin shift and fall.He reached under the blanket and pulled them up with no longer numb fingers,hoping they could tell him something,anything. 

But all that was on them was a serial number,and a single word:Wolverine. 

Was that his name?No,his name was...Logan?Yes,that sounded right...but so did Wolverine,even though he knew that could not be a name.He was Logan the Wolverine?Made him sound like a boxer or something. 

He felt no wiser than before,but he knew with a palpable certainty that he had to leave as soon as possible,because if they caught him-whether he was responsible or not,and he really didn't know either way-they would punish him.And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were things worse than death. 

Things they had done to him. 

Logan awoke with a jolt,momentarily disoriented-he expected to find himself back in the explosion shattered truck.But he was in a remorselessly grey room,shackled to the wall by his wrists and ankles.The wall across from him didn't look right;flat matte grey,the color didn't quite match the rest of the stone walls around it.A two way mirror,clumsily opaqued? 

He started yanking violently at the wrist shackles,trying to pull them out of the wall if not break them entirely,but they held fast,and he wondered how he could twist his hands to get his claws within slashing position:his adamantium skeleton wouldn't allow him to break his wrist to do it. But if he could, he was sure he could have done it. 

It was then he heard the pneumatic hiss of an airtight door unsealing,and he saw it swing open to his left,admitting a tall,pale guy.Too homely by half,with an almost perfectly anonymous face,slightly greasy black hair,and grey eyes that wouldn't have looked too out of place on a flounder, the guy gave him a leering grin,the kind only the cluelessly smug could manage.  
"Wolverine,what a pleasure it is to finally meet you." 

"Fuck you,"he snapped."Get me out of these things." 

That only made him leer even more."What?No 'what are you going to do to me,what did you do to my vamp buddy?',things like that?" 

"He's not my buddy,"he shot back,continuing to pull at the chains."What have you done with him?" 

"Those chains are adamantium,the same as you,so you really are wasting your time,"the man said,slowly coming towards him.He wondered if he could get one limb loose;arm or leg didn't matter,he could kill him either way."And how did you find us?Imagine my surprise when the squad I sent after you reported you two were on your way here.I didn't think there was anything incriminating on the discs you stole." 

"Answer my question,asshole,"he growled,reluctantly giving up on freeing himself from the chains.They were adamantium,and he wasn't going anywhere until this prick decided he was.And as soon as the opportunity arose,he was going to gut him like the fish he resembled. 

The man continued to smile,eyeing him like a piece of meat."He's alive,for now.He's a magnificent specimen;the security camera pictures didn't do him justice.He'll be a real draw in the pit.The good looking ones are so few and far between." 

"What the hell are you talking about?And who the hell are you?!" 

For some reason,that wiped the smile right off his face.Good."You don't know who I am?"He sounded as if the very idea was offensive."Are you a complete moron,you mutant scumbag?I am Ryan Flemming,the man who is the savior of the human race." 

Logan snorted derisively."Oh yeah,a browser that collapses every fifteen minutes will save humanity as we know it." 

Flemming fumed,color finally coming to his face as his rage grew,his hands balling into pathetic fists at his side."Crack jokes,freak-you're all dead.Every single one of you,and your demon buddies too." 

He remembered what the Brit had said about the chemicals,and took a wild guess."You're going to what,poison us?"  



	5. Part 5

Flemming got close,but sadly not close enough for him to skewer him or give him a head butt that would crack his skull open."You really are an idiot,aren't you Wolverine?Governments fuss and fume about nuclear weapons proliferation,but anyone with half a brain will tell you the future of warfare is biological weaponry.If they have the money,and access to a lab,any third world despot can cook up a 'superbug' that will wipe out half the planet.But what destroys can also save,in the right hands." 

That was it,then;his worse fear confirmed."You're creating a plague." 

He nodded,that smug smile reappearing once more.Flemming really was very impressed with himself.Well,someone had to be."Anyone with deviant DNA strands will be killed almost instantly.The computer models suggest the mutant population will be extinct in less than a year.It's a beautiful piece of work,actually.And it ought to be,considering how much I paid for it." 

"You really are a psycho motherfucker,aren't you?"He snarled,wondering how far he'd actually come with it.If it was really ready for release,as he seemed to be implying,why weren't mutants dropping dead left and right? 

That made the smile fall once more,and Flemming whipped out a long,sharp hunting knife from the back of his pants."You have no idea,Wolverine.But I think you're going to soon." 

"You actually think you can hurt me with that?"He asked incredulously.Yes,it might hurt,but it wouldn't kill him;even a psycho like Flemming should have known that.It was then he realized something was wrong."Wait.You don't smell human." 

Flemming snarled."No,I don't,thanks to your kind,freak." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means one of your people infected me,making me a freak as much as you.I know the plan,Wolverine:change the human race,make them all like you.But I'm going to stop you.You're all going to pay for what you did to me,and you'll never have a chance to do it to others." 

"You can't be infected by a mutant,dickhead-we're not viruses.And mutants still smell more or less human.You don't.You smell..."Oh,he didn't want to say it;he still didn't exactly believe it.But he had to believe his sense of smell."Demonic." 

Flemming smiled,and brought the knife up to the base of his throat."Trying to have your demon friends take the rap,is that it?It won't save you." 

"How precisely were you 'infected'?And if you figure you're a mutant,won't your superbug kill you too?" 

"I will be protected once it's released in the general populace."He began pressing the knife in;Logan felt the tip of the blade break his skin,the metal cold and sharp.But he didn't flinch;he refused to give him that satisfaction."And even if I do die,it's a small price to pay for ridding the human race of shit like you."He pressed the knife in deeper,causing rivulets of blood to run down his chest,staining his shirt,but Logan just glared at him,mentally promising to kill this sick fuck no matter what he thought he was. 

"We're ready for the test,sir,"a clipped female voice said over hidden speakers,making Flemming jump in surprise.He kept the knife at his throat,but turned towards the flat grey wall,confirming it was a two way mirror.""I told you to give me a half hour,Ruthven." 

"Angel has friends,sir,and they may know where he went.It would be in our best interest to get things under way." 

"The squad should be able to handle whoever comes for these freaks." 

"It would still be unfortunate if the fighting interrupted the transmission,sir."She replied coolly,but Logan was sure,beneath a hint of impatience,she was trying very hard to hide anger and general disgust.What,she didn't like her boss,or didn't want to watch him go all Friday The Thirteenth on him?Then why was she working on this little genocidal plan with him? 

"Transmission?"Logan asked,aware he probably wouldn't get an answer,and not at all surprised he didn't. 

Flemming put the knife back in the sheath clipped on the back of his belt and made a noise of disgust,glaring at the opaqued mirror."I hope you're not getting a weak stomach on me now,Jennifer."Flemming turned back to him,grinning coldly and looking ever so slightly inhuman."I hope you had a good life,Wolverine.Because it's over now." 

He turned and stalked off towards the door,but Logan promised him,"You're the dead man,not me." 

Flemming gave him another smug smile before he left,the door sealing shut behind him.  
After a minute,he heard a faint noise,a subaudible hiss,and smelled something chemical,a harsh aerosol that stung his nose and threatened to give him a headache. 

After a few seconds,he realized his heart was racing,and he was having a hard time breathing.It felt like his throat was closing,his windpipe narrowing as an invisible band wrapped around his chest,tightening like a vise. 

He had enough time to wonder if a virus could kill him before he lost consciousness,the noise of his blood roaring in his ears the last thing he heard. 

    16 

    Flemming watched with growing joy as Wolverine sagged in his chains,his head lolling on his chest as the machines registered his fluctuating life signs with increasingly discordant beeps and drones. 

"You managed to speed up the infection rate,"he noted with approval. 

"Based on all the data provided by past variations,I was able to create the most virulent strain to date,"she reported with her usual clinical detachment,as she studied the monitors and made marks on her ubiquitous clipboard. 

In thirty seconds,the dimly lit observation room filled with the beautiful keening drone of flatline,and he stared at the body of Wolverine,hanging limply from his chains like a puppet dangling from slackened strings.He smiled,reveling in his triumph.Some big bad ass he was. 

"So much for their 'superior' immune systems,"he commented,eager to get started.Finally he would wipe the scourge off the face of the Earth.He could have Morton run a batch over to Safe Harbor tonight,for release through the air conditioning system.With a little ingenuity and a lot more money,he could have it spewing from air conditioners,recirculators,and filters throughout the world in almost no time flat. 

"Of course,the fact that it kills its hosts so quickly will make spreading the contagion more difficult." 

"Let me worry about that.Congratulations,Jennifer.You just saved-"he began,pausing as one of the machines let out a high pitched beep. 

Then another did.And another. 

The room filled with a symphony of electronic bleeps,rhythmic and growing stronger every second,and he heard Ruthven suck in a hard,sudden breath."Shit,I was afraid of that." 

"Afraid of what?"He snapped,crossing his arms over his chest as his joy transmuted to a black and bitter rage. 

Rather than answer him,she flicked an intercom switch,and said,"Nelson,I need a blood sample from subject thirteen now." 

"Tell me,goddamn it!"He roared,battling the homicidal urges that had plagued him since that mutant had infected him three months ago.He couldn't kill Ruthven...not until he was sure she couldn't give him what he wanted. 

"From the data you gave me concerning this Wolverine,I guessed him to be one of the more powerful regeneratives we'd ever come across,"she told him,checking all the readings on the monitors against whatever she had written on her clipboard."There was a slim chance his system could adapt to the virus;very slim,but still within the realm of possibility." 

He watched Nelson,a lanky,pale intern,steal into Wolverine's cell,take a blood sample,and leave just as quickly,as if afraid the mutant would suddenly regain consciousness and burst from his chains.The boy's nervousness increased Flemming's rage,The freak should have started slowly decomposing by now. 

"How could his system adapt?"Flemming demanded."He died!" 

"In a clinical sense,yes." 

"What the fuck do you mean 'in a clinical sense'?!" 

She flinched at the anger in his voice,which made him feel a little bit better,but not much."His heart rate and brain activity probably dropped to machine imperceptible levels,so he was not truly dead.And in that time his immune system rallied and launched an attack against the pathogen-an attack which apparently succeeded." 

The door behind them slid open,and Nelson brought the blood sample to Ruthven,who promptly inserted it into a machine he never bothered to learn the name of.Nelson left without looking at him,and Flemming decided the boy was just a squirrelly geek in general. 

She looked through what appeared to be a microscope attached to the machine as she fiddled with several dials,and the wait seemed to take forever,two minutes stretched out into eternity.Just when he reached the very limit of his sorely tested patience,he asked,"Could he at least be contagious to other freaks?A 'typhoid Wolverine'?"At least the idea amused him no end. 

When she finally look up at him,he noticed her face was more pale than usual,her lips almost bloodless."For him to be a carrier,he'd have to have the live virus in his system.He doesn't." 

"What do you mean?!We just infected the fucker!" 

"Ryan-sir-he has no live virus in his system.They're all dead." 

He stared at her,uncomprehendingly,not wanting to believe it more than anything else."That's impossible.How did that happen?It can't happen!" 

"His immune system created antibodies that wiped out the virus faster than logic would indicate is possible under any circumstances."She looked up from her microscope and turned to gaze at Wolverine in slack jawed awe."My god,I didn't think a regenerative this extreme could exist.He's almost like Lazarus,but without divine intervention.Do you know what this means?" 

"He's a freak."He glared at the back of her pristine white lab coat,disliking the almost respectful tone that had creeped into her voice.Would she try and betray him too? 

"He could be a panacea.We could inject him with every disease known to mankind,maybe even cancer,and if we can synthesize the antibodies his blood creates to kill them-and it will;I don't think he can be killed by disease,or even age-we can cure them all.The key to saving the human race could very well be in his blood,Ryan."Finally she turned to look at him,her blue eyes almost glowing with excitement,and she apparently paid no attention to the look on his face."He could be a gold mine." 

"I have money,"he pointed out.She was being swayed by the mutants,wasn't she?He should have known she would become a traitor.He had never trusted doctors. 

"Not just of money!Of knowledge,Ryan!He must have the most well developed immune system on the planet."She turned back towards the mirror,looking at her new 'hero',ignoring the fact that he was coming up right behind her."You wanted to save the human race,Ryan?Here is its salvation.The key to immortality may even be buried in his blood..." 

She never got to finish her thought,as he grabbed her head and twisted it hard,snapping her pretty little neck.He let her body fall to the floor,not even bothering to glance at it."You'd save humanity by making us all freaks,huh Jennifer?"He spat,glaring at the still unconscious form of Wolverine."I don't fucking think so." 

Flemming considered resuming his tests,to see what would happen to Wolverine if he was shot or mutilated,but it was close to broadcast time,and he really wanted to see how well this 'Angel' did.Once upon a time,he was apparently the big bad ass in vamp circles,just like Wolverine was in mutant circles. 

Now there was an idea. 

If he couldn't kill the bastard in the way he wanted to,at least he could provide a little entertainment. 

He flicked an intercom switch,and said,"Nelson,inject subject thirteen with five hundred cc's of the agent,and have the guards drag him to the pit." 

""Sir?Umm,five hundred cc's is twice the usual dosage,"Nelson hesitantly replied,sounding like he was on the verge of flying apart at any second.Too much caffeine? 

"I'm aware of that,just do it."He snapped,flicking the intercom off.It probably wouldn't work on him any more than the contagion did,but even if it worked for a brief period of time,it would be worth it to see Wolverine act like the animal he really was. 

And murder his friend in cold blood. 

    17 

    When Logan first came to,he felt the cold,solid ground beneath him,and wondered if he was back in the snow.Except it didn't smell like snow.It smelled like cleaning solvents trying to hide the scent of blood and sweat,fear and rage,and...Angel? 

He opened his eyes,and found himself laying face down on a stainless steel floor in a darkened room-a far cry from the wall he had been chained too,and a definite improvement."Angel,"he said quietly,as he pushed himself up to a sitting position,feeling strangely woozy.Had they drugged him?At least they had tried,but all he felt now was a sort of light headedness,giving everything the patina of a fever dream,except he found it very easy to ignore. 

A bright light flicked on overhead,nearly blinding him,and he squinted against it,raising a hand to block it out. 

"How do you feel,Wolverine?"A smug voice he recognized as Flemming's asked,echoing slightly,giving him an idea of the size of the room.If he gauged the ricochet of his voice correctly,it was about the size of a small gymnasium,and empty,as nothing seemed to absorb the sound. 

"Like I'm going to kill you,"he replied,and then added,"Also,like a member of the living.Sorry to disappoint you." 

"Don't worry.You're going to have a chance to make it up to me." 

"And what the fuck does that mean?"He jumped to his feet,and started glancing around for Angel,but as his eyes had adjusted to the light he couldn't see well in the pools of darkness surrounding him.Out of the corner of his eye,though,he noticed what looked like a broken wooden axe handle on the floor,and idly wondered where the rest of it was. 

But new lights had sprung on,and he could see a large matte black wall before him that could only be another opaqued two way mirror.He was a sad,sad man. 

He started stalking towards the mirror,letting his claws spring through his knuckles as he did so."Enough of this shit." 

"I wouldn't,Wolvie,"his voiced warned,and he saw a brief flicker of light as he heard a crack of electricity and smelled something not unlike ozone."Usually this field just repels,to keep them away from the glass,but the levels can be adjusted to administer a fatal shock.You'll burn like toast if you touch it." 

"I'll only be out for a little while."He replied coldly,but he stopped where he was.He could feel the electrical field now,so charged and powerful the hair on his arms stood on end.It might not kill him,but he knew for damn sure it would hurt like hell,and at least knock him out for a while.Like a year or three.But he scanned the edges of the mirrored wall,and thought he saw where the field emitters were:if he could get through the field,he'd be able to take at least one out with his claws,which should cause the field to collapse,or at least weaken...but he'd be too fried to take advantage of it. 

Maybe he and Angel could work something out. 

He turned towards the darkness,retracting his claws,and said,"Angel,where you hidin'?" 

"You know he's with you?"Flemming began,then added."Oh yes,the both of you are bloodhounds.Him more than you,of course,in the most literal sense." 

Logan paused as he heard a savage,animalistic growling,and realized the scent in the air had changed.He didn't smell Angel as much as he smelled something he had no name for.Evil was the only thing that popped to mind."You locked me in here with a wild animal?What's the point in that?" 

"Didn't you ever see the movie Gladiator?"Flemming admonished,as lights began coming on throughout what looked to be a round room composed of stainless steel,the lights bouncing off the silver surfaces and making him squint until he became accustomed to the glare."You want to live,Wolverine?Fight for it.In the pit,only one man walks out." 

"You get your jollies this way,don't you?"He sneered,rolling his eyes at the amateur dramatics.Were crazed megalomaniacs the same everywhere? 

It was then that he saw Angel on the far side of the 'pit',face down,and held to the floor by collars chained around his neck and wrists.He was shirtless for some reason,which allowed to really notice how pale he was,which seemed freakish in Los Angeles."What did you do to him?"Logan wondered,as he walked towards him. 

And that's when Angel's head shot up to look at him,and he made that animal snarling noise again as Logan took a startled step back."What the fuck did you do to him?!"He demanded. 

Angel's face had changed;his forehead now seemed to bulge over eyes turned jaundiced yellow,and he seemed to have too many jagged teeth in his mouth,including two rather long fangs. 

"I just brought out his true nature,"Flemming said,sounding like he was gloating."Didn't you know what Angel really was?This is his true face,not the other one.His true face,and his true nature." 

Angel continued snarling at him,yanking at his chains so hard Logan was honestly surprised they hadn't broken yet.He realized there was something else in Angel's scent,a chemical smell.They had drugged him,hadn't they?Just like they tried to drug him,but it hadn't worked ;too bad that wasn't true for Angel."Hey man,come on,snap out of it,"Logan encouraged,but Angel continued making angry,animalistic noises,lips curled back over fangs,and he didn't see a single bit of intelligence or recognition in his eyes.He was well and truly gone. 

Maybe vampires were a superstitious,quaint name given to a variety of mutants that were hard to classify.Angel looked like a mutant now,although usually they weren't reduced to such animalistic states.Usually;he'd met exceptions. 

"He's all beast now,"Flemming continued,obviously impressed by the sound of his own voice."And vampires are all instinct.He wants your blood,Wolverine,and he's not going to stop until he gets it."Suddenly the cuffs holding Angel down snapped open and retracted with the chains into the floor."Let the best man win." 

Angel launched himself at him so fast he didn't have time to dodge;he tackled him and threw him hard to the steel floor,and Logan thought he heard his teeth gnash as he snarled,but Logan slammed a flattened palm under his chin and sent him flying backward.He had no idea Angel was that strong or fast;he knew he was stronger than your average human,but it was still a bit of a shock. 

As he got to his feet,Angel had already regained his and was charging again,but this time he was ready.At the last second,he dodged aside and tripped him up,sending him tumbling face first to the floor."I don't want to hurt you,goddamn it,"he told Angel,as the growling wreck of a mutant got back to his feet,blood dripping from his nose."Come on,snap out of it!"And as strong as Angel was,he had no doubt he could kill him quite easily,which was what Flemming wanted him to do,obviously.He'd be damned if he'd give the sicko what he wanted,but he'd also be damned if he'd let Angel kill him. 

Angel charged again,but this time showed some intelligence;he anticipated Logan's move and gave him a solid side kick to the head,sending him stumbling back as Angel grabbed him and threw him face first into the wall.But as Angel launched himself at him,Logan spun around,lashing out with his fist,and hit him in the side of the face,knocking him to the floor."Back off,"he snapped angrily,even though he knew Angel wasn't exactly compos mentis right now. 

That blow should have knocked Angel out-he had enough fighting experience to know that-but he was up on his feet in no time,snarling as a bruise began visibly forming where he'd hit him.He was just pissing Angel off and making him worse. At least that feeling was mutual. 

Angel charged with a wild swing,an attempt at a right cross that he ducked under,but at the same time he buried a foot in Logan's stomach,sending him backwards.But he managed to keep on his feet as Angel connected with a left hook that instantly dislocated his jaw,and grabbed him hard by the throat,cutting off his oxygen and lifting him off his feet. 

He felt his jaw relocate itself with a small click even as dark spots began winking in and out before his eyes as Angel squeezed even tighter on his throat,and started bringing him closer,baring his fangs.Christ,was he actually going to bite him?! 

He kicked out,hitting him in the chest,but it wasn't enough to make him let him go,even though he heard at least one of his ribs break on contact.He didn't want to do it,but his blood was roaring in his ears,and he was on the verge of suffocating.He extended one set of claws and slashed downward,slicing open Angel's forearm and chest,and he dropped him with an angry snarl of pain. 

Logan managed to land on his feet even as he choked for air,and Angel looked down at the blood running from the trio of gashes on his arm and criss crossing his chest,and his growling reached a new,angry peak as he charged anew,in a frenzy of animal rage. 

He showered him with a flurry of blows,so fast Logan managed to block only half,but he gave as good as he got,landing solid body blows that obviously hurt Angel and snapped bones,but it only increased the sloppy frenzy of his attack. 

Logan knew he was probably going to have to kill him...but he couldn't.No,he wasn't crazy about the guy,but he had helped him out,and he'd never have found the asshole behind all of this without his help.He gave him a kick to the side of the leg that sent Angel crashing to one knee,and then gave him a hard punch just beneath the jaw that sent him slamming down to the steel floor on his back,as close to unconscious as he could come in his current drugged state. 

Logan retreated a couple of steps to catch his breath,and wiped a trickle of blood from a split lower lip that had already healed shut."Why couldn't you be immune to the fucking drug?"He spat,disgusted to have the familiar old taste of his own blood in his mouth. 

And that's when it hit him:blood. 

Flemming had said Angel wanted his blood,and he had tried to bite him,like vampires supposedly did...but was it transferable?And what would be enough if it was? 

Only one way to find out.God,this was insane. 

Angel jumped back to his feet,a bit more unsteady than last time,dark splotches of bruises now discoloring his blood streaked chest.He continued to growl angrily,looking more and more like a mad dog. 

"You want my blood,huh?"He asked,and extended a single claw,which he drew down his own forearm.The blood welled up in a neat crimson line,and remained for about five seconds or so before the skin healed shut again,but Angel had seen it and smelled it;he could tell by the way he seemed to tense,his muscles primed like coiled springs.He extended his newly healed arm,and said,"Then come on,Angel-bite me." 

He didn't need to wait for a reaction;Angel slammed him back first against the wall,pinning his arms to his sides,and sunk his fangs into his throat.Being bitten was bizarre enough,but feeling him drinking his blood was beyond bizarre;it was surreal. 

He was pretty sure he was never going to tell anyone about this. 

The noises Angel made was disturbing,greedy gulps mixed with small noises of animal satisfaction,and he figured enough was enough.He rammed his knee into Angel's groin and broke his arms free as he grunted in pain from the fangs tearing out of his throat violently,then gave Angel a sharp uppercut that sent him stumbling backwards."Don't be a greedy bastard,I still need some,"he chided,leaning against the wall as his equilibrium briefly wavered,and he felt warm blood gushing down his chest from the hole Angel had inadvertently ripped in his neck.But even as he reached up to touch the ugly wound,he felt it healing over,his skin quickly knitting back together as his consciousness seemed to solidify,the light headedness dissipating rapidly. 

Angel was still looking at him like meat on the hoof,his blood smeared on his lips and chin,his growling reduced to a back of the throat noise a tiger about to pounce might use.How long would it take to work if it was going to? 

Logan was still pondering that when Angel charged again,but he kicked him in the face,sending him back,and then followed up with a punch hard enough to send him down to the floor again.Angel landed on all fours,but Logan kicked him hard in the stomach,sending him sprawling onto his back."Come on,Angel,snap out of it!I don't think you can take much more." 

He knew he should probably stop hitting him,but he had to make this look good,because god knew what Flemming would pump into the pit if he had a clue what was going on. 

Angel started to get up,but then collapsed back on his side,wrapping his arms around his stomach. Logan saw his face suddenly change,his eyes reverting to their usual dark brown as his brow shrunk back to normal,along with his teeth."What the hell..?"He gasped breathlessly,his eyes still slightly glazed.He wasn't sure if it was due to drugs or pain or both. 

"You're trying to kill me,"he hissed,pretending to pause and catch his breath."Flemming's watching,let's make this look good.And put on your weird face again,if you can." 

"My weird - oh."He licked his lips,and his eyes widened in horror as he wiped his mouth and gazed at his blood smeared palm."This is human blood."He began searching the pit with his eyes,presumably for a human corpse. 

Damn it;he was hoping he was so out of it he wouldn't remember,and he never had to tell him.Maybe he could fudge a bit."You didn't kill 'em,don't worry." 

Angel stared at him,his eyes growing less cloudy by the second,and he got a stunned look on his face that suggested he guessed what had happened if he didn't precisely remember."I fed off you?"He asked. 

"Get up and attack me,asshole,before he suspects something,"Logan whispered harshly.Although it was a genuine concern,honestly he didn't want to discuss this,especially not now.Or ever.He was already working hard to forget it. 

Angel rolled up to his feet,his face instantly morphing into his ugly,fangy visage,and took a wild swing that had no hope of connecting. Logan stepped under it and gave him a rabbit punch to the kidneys that doubled him over,even though he greatly pulled the punch."No fake fighting,Angel-hit me!"Angel glanced up at him curiously,and Logan pointed out,"I'm stronger than you.You can't really hurt me,and we have to be convincing." 

Angel looked doubtful-even with his weird face on,it was obvious he was 'here';there was a light of intelligence somewhere behind his yellow eyes-then suddenly hit him with an uppercut that sent him crashing back into the wall."You have a plan?"He whispered,as he came in for a second punch. 

Logan let him land it before ramming his knee into Angel's solar plexus,sending him reeling backwards."See that window on the left?"He asked,throwing a punch that Angel blocked with his left forearm before wrapping his arm around his and throwing him half way across the pit.Logan stayed on his feet,but he was pretty impressed;Angel seemed to be a better fighter when not stoned out of his gourd. 

Angel charged in again for a tackle,and again Logan let him,even though he threw him on his back so hard he was left mostly breathless for a few seconds.Still,Logan got him back by punching him in the jaw,pulled slightly but not enough not to hurt him a bit."It's guarded by an electrical field,"he continued,getting a knee up and throwing Angel off him.As he landed on his back,he rolled and got back up to his feet,but he looked like he was in some pain now."It's lethally charged,but I'm pretty sure I can push through it and kill one of the emitters,"Logan continued,rolling up to his own feet.They then stalked each other like circling panthers,slowly but surely getting closer to Flemming's hiding place."But once I do I'll probably be out for a while.Can you bust through the window and get that son-of-a-bitch?" 

Angel proved he was worth saving by not even hesitating."Of course,yeah.But maybe I should I take out the emitter." 

"Are vampires immune to electricity?" 

"No.But neither are you." 

"Do you have claws?" 

"No." 

"Then how are you going to take out the emitter?" 

Angel didn't have an answer for that,and he didn't think he would.They exchanged a brief series of weak punches before resuming their circling stance,close enough to the electrical field that even Angel must have felt it now."What was his plan?Do you know?"Angel wondered curiously.If they told him anything before he was drugged,he'd obviously forgotten. 

"To kill all mutants by creating a plague.He tested the virus on me and he failed.He seems to think he was 'infected' by a mutant,but he doesn't smell all that human,and frankly,he's a fucking nut."Logan decided he was as ready for this as he was ever going to be."On three.You follow my lead,got it?" 

"Got it,"Angel agreed,and then added,hesitantly,"Thank you." 

Logan decided to pretend he didn't know what he was thanking him for;it was just easier that way. 

"One,"Logan mouthed,edging closer to the field.Angel tensed,hands clenching into fists at his side."Two."He extended his claws,and risked a glance at the opaqued window,and the emitter at its side,a metal box shaped device that looked not unlike an incomplete toaster.He just hoped it wasn't made of adamantium,or this whole thing was going to be pointless."Three!"He shouted,and dove towards it,right claw raised in striking position. 

He tasted the electricity in his mouth as he felt it sizzle along his body,tendrils of blue fire arcing off his claws,and the pain quickly reached a level so intense he really didn't feel it;he was all numb,his muscles spasming and no longer under his control.But he had anticipated that,which is why he had readied himself to strike.As he crashed to the steel floor,he managed to bring his claw down,and sliced through the emitter like wet paper. 

Sparks erupted on contact from from his claws,and voltage seemed to shudder through his body,following the frame of his metal skeleton.He had time to think that it was a lot like being struck by lightning before the world fell away around him. 

    18 

    Angel could smell the scent of scorched flesh before Logan even hit the emitter,and he had to squelch his first instinct-to see if he was still alive-as the device shattered under his claw strike,and the energy field visibly flickered.He ran through it,feeling weaker charges of energy play across his skin,and at the last second jumped,turning to the side so as he crashed through the window he took the brunt of the impact on his right shoulder. 

It was fairly thick but gave like fragile ice,exploding into a million dark shards of glass as he managed to land on his feet in what appeared to be a plush master control room:electronic panels and video monitors lined both side walls,and a desk full of control switches sat in the center of the room,which a startled Flemming instantly ducked behind,trying to save himself from the shower of glass. 

"Security!"He shouted,as Angel noticed a digital video camera hit the red carpeted floor and smash to pieces at his feet.He wasn't only taping;he was broadcasting.  



	6. Part 6

As Angel jumped over the desk,a group of commandos burst through the door,and in spite of the beating he had taken,and all the glass cuts he knew he had,he felt remarkably good.With a sudden spasm of guilt,he realized it was probably due to Logan's blood in his system. He glanced over his shoulder to find Logan still laying face down on the floor,clawed hand extended towards the ruin of the machinery.Could he recover from that,or had he been cooked from the inside out,beyond his system's ability to repair itself? 

The first commando tried to jab him with one of their supercharged tasers,but he stepped under his arm and smashed a flattened palm into his chin,sending him flying back into a fellow commando,who accidentally tasered his friend on the way down to the floor. 

He backhanded another commando across the face and stole his taser,which he quickly turned on the others,and he noticed Flemming trying to make a break for it.He shoved one of the commandos into him and they went down in a tangle of limbs as some kind of alert siren screamed throughout the complex.The remaining commandos tried to swarm him en masse,but he began throwing wild punches and kicks at anything that moved,and soon there weren't enough left to even annoy him. 

Suddenly there was a loud electric crack,and something cold and metal bit into his spine,flooding him with electricity that seemed to travel through his entire nervous system,and the next thing he knew he was on the floor,being kicked over onto his back. 

Flemming stood over him,holding what appeared to be a rather thick,silver pronged cattle prod under his arm,and a stake in his other hand. 

"You may be the first demon to break through the wall,but did you really think we didn't have a contingency plan?"He asked,as something seemed to ripple beneath the surface of his face,disturbing his skin like the surface of a pond as his eyes began to turn a hard and lambent gold.He could smell the change;he was a demon,just as Logan had indicated. 

It took a great effort,but he finally managed to make his throat work."I know what you are." 

Flemming frowned,eyes narrowing as they returned to hard,stony grey."You know nothing,you stupid beast.And it's a shame you can't die on camera;I could have made a mint on the home video market." 

He took a step forward,and three metal blades suddenly exploded through Flemming's chest,making him freeze in his tracks. 

"I told you you were the dead man,"Logan growled behind him.Flemming made a few choking noises,blood gushing from his mouth,eyes widening in a mixture of horror and disbelief.Logan retracted his claws from his body,and Flemming fell bonelessly to the floor beside him. 

Angel managed to find the ability to ask,"Are you all right?" 

Logan gazed down at him somewhat harshly,and he knew a sarcastic comment was coming,but at the last second he seemed to change his mind,his expression softening slightly."I just wanna get out of here before I pass out again,"he admitted wearily. 

Angel knew the feeling all too well. 

    19 

    It took Logan a moment to figure out where he was. 

He sat up slowly,taking in his surroundings,and the roughly color coordinated and blandly furnished room distinguished this as a hotel room.The memories came flooding back,and he remembered he was at the Hyperion,Angel's hotel(which he still did not get-a vampire who lived in a closed hotel?What the hell was that about?). 

He sat up,and found he had gone to sleep in his clothes.Shit,being electrocuted left you exhausted. 

The curtains were fully opened,revealing it was still night,the lights of the city bleeding in and casting weird patterns on the carpet as he got up,wondering how long he'd been out. 

By the time they made their way through Flemming's underground complex,the sun was just setting,and the commando bastards decided to try and burn the place down with them still inside it.Obviously that hadn't worked,but once he and Angel left the lot,you could see the black smoke rising from at least three of the warehouses,blocking out the remaining sunlight and ironically helping Angel immensely. 

But he was too late to help Wraith. 

On their way out,they went room to room,hoping to free any mutants or demons still trapped inside the complex,and found what appeared to be an intensive care unit full of mutants on life support machines-machines whose plugs had been pulled.They were all dead,including Wraith,lost in a tangle of tubes and wires at the end of the second row,so pale he almost blended in with the white sheets of the bed.Even in death,he was determined to disappear. 

He felt like he had failed him somehow,or that his death had been his fault,even though he knew logically this all would have happened even if he had never come to Los Angeles.But it still made him angry:he wished Flemming would come back to life,just so he could kill him again. 

Angel apparently knew what kind of demon Flemming was;according to him,he was most likely 'infected' by a parasitic Lodos demon,a kind that slowly but surely took over the host's mind and body.Interestingly enough,the 'infection' was just an 'infant' Lodos,passed from an 'adult' Lodos to the unsuspecting host in,most likely,a kiss - it was the preferred method of transmission. Sneaky and gross,but he still couldn't manage to feel sorry for Flemming.Right now,he could only feel sorry for Wraith. 

As soon as he was certain he was ready,he left his room and went downstairs,half expecting(and hoping)no one was around.But as soon as he started down the lobby stairs,he heard voices. 

"-where he was transmitting to?"Angel asked. 

"As far as I can tell,he was using a satellite Genisystems uses for its wireless systems,"Wesley replied.Logan could see them now,all seated around Cordelia's desk.Angel sat in front,while Wesley and Gunn sat on stools at the side,their backs to him,while Cordy sat behind her computer,hard at work on something."My guess is it was a pay-per-view digital broadcast,available somewhere on the internet.We can't expect to find the exact site under Flemming's name." 

"And they'll just have to go back to showing German porn,I guess,since the demon gladiator games are no more."Cordy commented idly,frowning at something on her monitor. 

Everyone stared at her curiously,but it took a moment for her to realize it."What?"She demanded. 

"German porn?"Gunn repeated. 

"Oh,what?You're a guy-don't play innocent with me."She replied,and then she looked his way and saw him.She smiled,her hazel eyes shining with the reflected light from the screen,and said brightly,"Hey Logan." 

They all turned to look at him,and he only gave her a curt nod,uncomfortable with the mass scrutiny."Found something new?"He asked,hoping to deflect attention from him in any way possible. 

"Not really,"Angel sighed,the ghost of dark bruises hardly visible on his face anymore.He was healing faster than before,probably due to his blood infusion."We just discovered the patently obvious:Flemming was supplementing his already obscene incoming by broadcasting lethal demon fights on the web,which explains why he was kidnapping demons.It may have been going on longer than his campaign against mutants,we're not completely sure." 

"That complex was pretty extensive,and the pit did smell like it had been hosed out a lot.But what about the Omegas?We didn't get them all."He said,coming down into the lobby.Logan noted the hole he'd accidentally made in the front desk had been hastily patched over,and the wood didn't quite match. 

"They're leaderless now,and most importantly,no longer have financial backing,"Angel said,crossing his arms over his chest."I'd be surprised if we ever heard from them again." 

"And Safe Harbor?"Logan continued,concerned they had forgotten something,but he wasn't sure  
what. 

"Closed,"Gunn told him."I swung by it on my way here,and it was shut until further notice,which is a nice way of saying forever." 

"It'll probably be liquidated with many of Flemming's secret assets,"Wesley opined,pushing his glasses up from the bridge of his nose. 

Logan realized uncomfortably that he was being accepted as a member of their group,which he didn't want.He didn't want to be a member of anyone's group.Why did people keep trying to include him?He didn't know how to segue,so he was about to say goodbye and simply leave when Cordy suddenly exclaimed,"Oh crap!" 

She jolted in her chair,grabbing her head as she arched back,and they all jumped to their feet,surrounding her protectively.Panting with pain,she sat forward,a hand still clamped to her forehead,and gasped,"Nest of vampires having a buffet of runaways in a closed down bar called Pete's,just off Sunset and Vine." 

"Got it,"Angel said,retrieving his long leather jacket as Gunn and Wesley gathered strange weapons from beneath the front desk.Gunn grabbed a silver headed axe,shoving a stake in his belt,while Wesley grabbed a crossbow and a quarrel of wooden arrows. 

As the three of them trooped past him on their way out of the hotel,Angel paused,and told him,"We've got it,Logan,you don't need to come along." 

Even though they were already out the door,he replied,"I wasn't gonna come along." 

Cordy snorted a small laugh,aborted due to pain,but when he glanced back at her she was giving him a sad smile."You're leaving,aren't you?" 

He was mildly surprised,but he didn't know why."You're getting better at the psychic thing,huh?" 

"No,I just know how to read men."She paused briefly,her smile fading."Angel told me what happened." 

"What?"He asked,trying not to panic.If that son of a bitch told her... 

"About your friend.I'm sorry." 

Logan tried hard to swallow a sigh of relief."Yeah,me too.So,uh...can I get you something before I go?"He felt bad just leaving her here alone,especially when she was in pain. 

"Umm,yeah,there's an ice pack in the fridge.Can you grab it for me?" 

He nodded,and came around the desk,searching the compact office fridge before he found the pack of blue ice and brought it over to her.She took it from him with a small,grateful smile,and asked,"Where are you going to go?" 

He shrugged.He hadn't really thought about it."I might head back to Canada,start the search over,or just head East.I haven't decided yet." 

She crooked her finger at him,indicating for him to come closer,and he did,crouching down so he was closer to her eye level.To his surprise,she leaned over and gave him a quick,soft kiss on the lips.As he pulled back in shock,she said,"Be careful,Logan.Just because you're mostly indestructible doesn't mean you can't be killed.Take care of yourself." 

He just nodded at first,too stunned to say anything."I-I will.You too."He stood and walked away.Deciding it was best to put distance between them,he started to leave,but he had to admit,she might be worth staying for.Out of all of them,she was probably the only one. 

"Hey,"she said,and he turned in the doorway,the night air welcomingly cool on his face. 

She smiled,the ice pack pressed to her temple."Don't be a stranger,either.If you ever get back to L.A. come on by.You'll always be welcome here." 

"No offense,but if I ever come back to L.A.,I'll be clinically insane.But thanks for the offer."Logan paused in thought,and added,"If you ever come up East,look me up." 

"Sure.But how?You have a number?" 

"No.But don't worry;if you show up,I'll find you."He graced her with a rare,genuine smile,and said, "Goodbye Cordelia." 

For the first time in two days,he felt strangely optimistic. 

Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving Los Angeles. 

THE END 


End file.
